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By  LUCY  ELLEN  GUERNSEY. 


LOVEDAY'S   HISTORY.     A    Story   of   Many 

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LOYEDAY'S   HISTORY. 


A  TALE  OF  MANY  CHANGES. 


BY 

LUCY  ELLEN  ^GUERNSEY 

AUTHOR  OP  "THE  FOSTER-SISTERS,"  "LADY  BETTY'S  GOV- 
ERNESS," "WINIFRED,  OR  AFTER  MANY  DAYS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  WHITTAKER 
£  &  3  BIBLE  HOUSE 


COPYRIGHT  1884, 
BY  THOMAS  WH1TTAKER. 


GIFT 


KIBSS  OF  W.  L.  MERSHON  ft 
RAHWAY,   N.   J. 


955 


This  book  is  affectionately  dedicated  to 
"  SISTER  DOLLKY." 


CONTENTS, 


CHAP.  I.  THE  BEGINNING,  -   -      1 

II.  MORE  REMEMBRANCES,       -  18 

.    III.  ANOTHER  CHANGE,        -  -       29 

IV.  A  NEW  LIFE,  61 

V.  THE  THUNDER  STRIKES,         -  84 

VI.  THE  LIGHTNING  STRIKES  AGAIN,  106 

VII.  OLD  FRIENDS  AND  NEW,        -  -      136 

VIII.  HER  GRACE'S  GENTLEWOMAN,  »                                  165 

IX.  HER  GRACE,  -      183 

X.  AT  THE  GREAT  HOUSE,     -  218 

XL  THE  DUKE'S  RING,  -      242 

XII.  THE  OLD  HALL,     -  260 

XIII.  EXILED,  AND  YET  AT  HOME,  -      278 

XIV..  ANOTHER  HOME,     -  293 

XV.  COOMBE  ASHTON,         -  -      308 

XVI.  THE  GREAT  STORM,  320 

XVII.  THE  WANDERERS,        -  -      338 

XVHI.  THE  LAST, -          360 


PREFACE. 


It  has  been  my  aim  in  this  book  to  illustrate  and 
make  real  to  my  readers  the  great  and  wonderful 
change  which  passed  over  England  between  the  year 
1538  and  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  How  far  I  have 
succeeded  such  readers  must  judge  for  themselves. 
It  was  a  time  of  great  trial  and  suffering  for  both 
parties — not  least  for  those  who  saw  sacred  shrines 
broken  up  and  sold  for  old  gold  and  silver,  and  the 
relics  which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  adore, 
treated  with  all  sorts  of  indignities.  It  should  al- 
ways be  remembered  that  the  same  Bishop  Gardener 
who  so  distinguished  himself  by  his  zeal  in  Queen 
Mary's  reign  was  the  very  same  who  was  King 
Henry's  right  hand  man  in  the  work  of  destroying 
convents,  and  that  it  was  Cardinal  Wolsey  himself 
who  first  set  the  example.  But  Wolsey,  with  all  his 
faults,  was  not  so  bad  a  man  as  Gardener,  because  he 
was  no  hypocrite.  The  story  of  the  adventures  and 
wanderings  of  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  with  her  second 
husband,  Mr.  Bertie,  is  literally  true. 

L.  E.  G. 


INTRODUCTION. 


I  have  amused  the  hours  of  a  somewhat  tedious 
confinement  with  a  sorely  wrenched  knee  joint  in 
writing  down  for  my  children  some  of  the  adventures 
of  my  youth.  May  they  never  forget  to  be  grateful 
for  the  peace  and  freedom  they  now  enjoy — especially 
for  the  liberty  to  hear  and  read  the  Gospel. 

LOVEDAY  CORBET. 


I  found  this  book  many  years  ago  while  superin- 
tending some  improvements  in  the  old  vicarage  of 
Coombe  Ashton.  The  manuscript  was  fairly  dropping 
to  pieces  with  -age,  but  I  have  made  shift  to  read  and 
copy  it. 

W.  C. 


LOVED  AY'S  HISTORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE     BEGINNING. 


SHALL  never  forget  that  beginning.  It  was 
like  the  lightning  flash,  which  always  comes 
suddenly,  albeit  one  may  have  seen  the 
clouds  gathering  for  hours,  and  even  have  heard  dis- 
tant growls  and  mutterings  of  thunder.  Of  such 
growls  and  mutterings  there  had  indeed  been  a  plenty 
when  I  was  quite  a  little  maid,  living  with  my  kins- 
woman, Lady  Peckham,  in  Somersetshire.  I  remem- 
ber well  my  lady's  wrath  and  consternation  at  hear- 
ing that  my  Lord  Cardinal  had  put  down  some  thirty 
or  more  of  the  small  religious  houses,  especially  con- 
vents of  nuns,  and  had  confiscated  their  revenues  to 
the  endowment  of  his  grand  college  foundation  at 
Oxford.  There  was  no  talk  of  pensions  and  suste- 
nance for  old  or  young.  The  poor  souls  were  turned 
adrift  to  shift  as  best  they  might.  If  my  Lord 
Cardinal  were  alive  to  see  the  havoc  that  hath  been 
made  since,  he  might  bethink  himself  (if  he  ever 
happened  to  hear  it)  of  a  certain  pithy  proverb 


2  Loveday's  History. 

about  showing  the  cat  the  way  to  the  cream.  The 
cat  hath  lapped  the  cream  pretty  clean  in  these  days. 

I  had  a  personal  interest  in  that  same  measure  of 
my  Lord  Cardinal,  seeing  I  was  myself  destined  for 
one  of  those  very  convents,  a  small,  but  reputable 
house  of  Gray  Nuns,  not  far  from  Bridgewater.  I 
was  the  daughter  of  a  kinsman  of  my  Lady  Peckham's 
first  husband,  and  being  left  an  orphan  of  tender 
years  and  wholly  without  provision,  my  lady  char- 
itably took  me  into  her  protection  and  care,  and  gave 
me  a  home,  intending  to  bring  me  up  till  such  age  as 
I  should  be  fit'  to  make  a  profession.  But  the  convent 
was  suppressed,  as  I  have  said,  and  so  that  cake  was 
dough.  The  sisters —  there  were  not  more  than  eight- 
een or  twenty  in  all — found  places  where  they  could. 
Some  went  to  their  friends,  some  to  other  houses  of 
the  same  order.  One  went  to  live  in  the  family  of  a 
master  baker  in  Bridgewater,  where  she  afterward 
married.  I  saw  her  not  long  since,  a  fine  stately  old 
dame,  and  a  great  blessing  to  her  own  family  as  well 
as  to  the  poor  of  the  town.  One — Sister  Benedict — 
came  to  stay  with  my  lady  till  she  could  find  suitable 
convoy  to  another  house  of  Bernardines  not  far  from 
London. 

I  don't  think  that  in  her  secret  heart  my  lady  was 
very  sorry  to  have  an  excuse  for  keeping  me  with  her 
a  while  longer.  I  had  grown  a  handy  little  maid, 
tall  of  my  age,  and  having  no  daughters  of  her  own,  it 
was  but  natural  she  should  take  to  me,  especially  as  I 
was  very  fond  of  her.  I  liked  nothing  better  than  to 
follow  her  around  like  a  little  dog,  carrying  her  basket 
or  her  keys,  and  running  with  good  will  to  do  her 
errands  about  the  house  and  garden.  I  believe  I 


The  Beginning.  3 

might  have  done  the  same  as  long  as  I  lived,  only  for 
Sister  Benedict,  who  came  to  stay  with  us,  as  I  said, 
and  who  must  needs  put  her  finger  in  the  pie.  My 
lady  had  a  son  by  her  first  marriage — Walter  Corbet 
by  name — who  was  destined  by  his  mother  for  holy 
orders.  He  was  several  years  older  than  I,  and  we 
were  great  friends,  as  was  but  natural.  He  helped 
me  in  my  lessons,  specially  in  my  Latin,  which  I 
learned  with  him  of  Sir  John  Watson,  our  kind  old 
parish  priest  and  domestic  chaplain,  and  fought  my 
battles  and  those  of  my  pet  cats  against  Randall 
Peckham  who,  though  not  a  bad  lad  in  the  main,  was 
rather  too  fond  of  teasing.  Poor  Randall  was  sent  to 
Oxford,  where  he  went  altogether  to  the  bad,  ran 
away  leaving  more  than  a  hundred  pounds  of  debt 
behind  him,  and  (so  we  heard)  was  cast  away  on  a 
ship  going  to  Holland.  He  was  his  mother's  pride 
and  darling,  and  her  heart  was  almost  broken.  I  have 
always  believed,  ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to  think 
about  the  matter,  that  Sister  Benedict  persuaded  my 
lady  that  her  holding  back  Walter  and  myself  from 
that  service  to  which  we  had  been  promised  had 
brought  this  judgment  upon  her.  Walter  declared 
that,  though  he  might  consent  to  be  a  parish  priest, 
he  would  never  be  a  monk,  and  he  was  one  not  easy 
to  be  moved  when  once  his  mind  was  made  up, 
though  he  never  stuck  out  about  trifles — not  like 
poor  Randall,  who  could  be  coaxed  or  flattered  out  of 
any  principles  he  ever  had,  while  he  would  be  ob- 
stinate even  to  folly  about  the  trimming  of  a  glove, 
or  the  management  of  a  hawk.  So  my  lady  was  fain 
to  compromise  the  matter,  and  Walter  was  sent  to 
Bridgewater  to  study  with  Sir  Richard  Lambert, 


4  Loveday's  History. 

a  very  learned  priest  with  a  great  reputation 
for  sanctity.  (Of  course  I  did  not  know  all  this 
at  the  time,  being  but  a  child.)  I  was  sent  away 
with  Sister  Benedict,  to  go  to  my  father's  brother,  a 
rich  merchant  in  London,  trading  to  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. That  was  the  story.  Sir  Edward  had  all  along 
been  opposed  to  bestowing  me  in  a  convent,  and 
after  the  suppression  of  the  Gray  Nuns'  house,  he 
had  spoken  his  mind  freely  to  my  lady,  saying  that 
he  would  not  have  me  disposed  of  in  that  way  with- 
out my  own  consent,  and  that  no  more  should  be  said 
about  the  matter  till  I  was  of  age  to  judge  for  my- 
self. My  lady  seemed  to  acquiesce,  as  indeed  she 
always  did  on  the  rare  occasions  when  Sir  Edward 
asserted  his  will,  and  I  suppose  she  might  really  be 
glad  of  the  excuse  to  keep  me  at  home,  for,  as  I 
have  said,  she  liked  to  have  me  about  her.  But 
Sir  Edward  went  away,  being  sent  to  Scotland  on 
public  business  by  the  King,  and  Sister  Benedict 
came,  and  the  upshot  of  the  matter  was,  that  I  was 
sent  to  London  to  see  my  uncle  and  little  cousins. 
As  soon  as  Sister  Benedict  could  make  proper  arrange- 
ments, I  was  to  be  transferred  to  the  convent  of 
Bernardines  at  Dartford,  a  very  rich  and  reputable 
house.  I  don't  think  it  was  meant  that  I  should 
know  this,  but  my  lady's  woman  let  the  cat  out  of 
the  bag,  and  my  lady,  finding  I  knew  so  much,  told 
me  the  rest  herself — so  I  knew  what  to  look  for. 

The  journey  to  London  was  longer  and  harder  then 
than  now,  and  very  dangerous  withal.  But  my  Lord 
Abbot  of  Glastonbury,  who  was  Sister  Benedict's  un- 
cle, was  going  up  to  town  with  a  great  following,  and 
we  traveled  in  his  train  ;  so  we  escaped  the  dangers 


The  Beginning.  5 

of  the  road,  and  met  with  far  more  consideration 
than  we  should  otherwise  have  done.  Nevertheless, 
I  remember  that  Sister  Benedict  was  highly  indignant 
at  certain  instances  of  disrespect  shown  to  her  uncle 
by  the  gentry  and  others  whom  we  met,  and  mourned 
over  the  degeneracy  of  the  times.  The  truth  was, 
the  thunder-cloud  was  even  then  lying  low  in  the  sky, 
and  men  felt  its  influence  as  dumb  creatures  do  that 
of  a  natural  storm  before  it  comes. 

Well,  we  reached  London  at  last,  and  glad  was  I 
when  our  journey  was  done,  though  sorry  to  part 
with  Sister  Benedict,  who,  her  point  once  gained, 
was  very  kind  to  me.  However,  I  had  so  much  to 
engage  my  attention  that  I  did  not  feel  the  parting  so 
deeply  as  might  perhaps  have  been  expected. 

Mine  uncle  lived  in  Portsoken  ward,  in  a  very  fine 
house  built  by  his  grandfather,  but  greatly  enlarged 
and  embellished  by  his  father  and  himself.  It  had  a 
large  court-yard,  and  a  garden  at  the  back,  wherein 
were  some  huge  apple  trees  and  a  great  standard  pear 
tree,  besides  others  for  shade  and  beauty.  All  the 
Corbets  are  fond  of  gardening,  and  my  Uncle  Gabriel 
was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  At  that  time  (and  I 
suppose  the  same  is  true  now)  the  great  merchants  of 
London  lived  very  handsomely,  and  enjoyed  many 
luxuries  which  had  not  been  so  much  as  heard  of  in 
our  remote  corner  of  the  world.  I  was  met  at  the 
door  by  a  most  lovely  old  lady,  who  kissed  me  on 
both  cheeks,  and  informed  me  that  she  was  my  great- 
aunt,  my  Grandfather  Corbet's  sister. 

"  And  so  you  are  poor  Richard's  child  !  I  remem- 
ber him  well,  a  little  lad  no  bigger  than  you,  if  as  big. 
You  don't  favor  him  greatly,  and  yet  there  is  a  Cor, 


6  Loveday*s  History. 

bet  look  about  you,  too.  What  was  your  mother's 
name  ?  " 

I  managed  to  say  that  it  was  Loveday  Carey. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  And  how  old  are  you  ? 
But  never  mind  now.  You  must  need  refreshment 
after  your  long  journey,  but  I  suppose  you  have  not 
come  very  far  to-day." 

She  led  me  by  the  hand  toward  the  foot  of  a  grand 
staircase,  far  finer  than  that  at  Peckham  Hall ;  but  as 
we  reached  it  I  started  back  in  utter  dismay  from 
what  I  conceived  to  be  no  less  than  the  devil  himself 
— namely,  the  figure  of  a  man  black  as  ebony,  and 
rather  fantastically  dressed,  who  stood  bowing  and 
showing  his  white  teeth  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to 
me  to  warrant  the  conclusion  that  I  was  instantly  to 
be  devoured.  I  clung  to  my  aunt's  arm,  and  uttered, 
I  suppose,  some  exclamation  of  dismay.  My  terror 
seemed  greatly  to  amuse  the  creature,  which  now 
giggled  outright. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  my  aunt,  as  I  let  go  of  her  hand 
and  retreated  behind  her. 

"  The  black  man  ! "  I  faltered. 

"Oh,  poor  Sambo?  I  suppose  you  never  saw  a 
blackamoor  before.  But  don't  be  frightened,  child. 
He  is  a  human  creature  like  ourselves,  and  hath  a 
kind  heart,  and  is  a  good  Christian,  too;  are  you  not, 
Sambo?" 

Whereupon  the  negro  made  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and  showed  me  a  crucifix  which  hung  about  his  neck. 

"  You  will  soon  learn  to  like  him  as  well  as  our 
children  do,"  said  my  aunt.  "  Go,  Sambo,  and  bring 
up  the  young  lady's  mails." 

Sambo  grinned  again  wider  than  ever,  and  betook 


The  Beginning.  7 

himself  to  the  side-door,  where  an  attendant  of  my 
Lord  Abbot's  was  waiting  with  my  baggage. 

Thus  reassured,  I  ventured  to  pass  him,  and  fol- 
lowed my  aunt  up  the  stairs  into  the  very  finest  room 
I  had  ever  seen.  My  uncle's  house  is  built  with  the 
upper  stories  projecting  over  the  lower.  I  always  had 
a  fancy  that  it  was  leaning  over  to  look  down  the 
street.  There  was  a  great  oriel  window,  with  many 
panes  of  stained  glass,  which  formed  a  deep  recess. 
On  the  floor  of  this  recess  lay  a  beautiful  carpet, 
such  an  one  as  I  had  never  seen  before.  I  could  not 
conceive  how  such  a  beautiful  fabric  chanced  to  be  in 
such  a  situation,  for  the  two  or  three  Turkey  rugs  we 
possessed  at  Peckham  house  were  used  as  coverings 
for  tables  and  beds.  A  great  East  country  cabinet 
stood  in  this  recess,  and  before  it  a  carved  arm-chair. 
The  walls  of  the  room  were  hung  with  Spanish  leather 
most  curiously  wrought  with  gold  and  silver  figures  ; 
the  furniture  was  partly  of  damask  and  partly  of 
Cordovan  leather.  At  the  other  end  of  the  apart- 
ment was  a  second  large  window  looking  upon  the 
street,  as  the  first  did  upon  the  garden.  Here  stood  a 
low  chair,  and  a  basket  piled  up  with  homely  house- 
hold work. 

"  This  is  my  place  !  "  said  Aunt  Joyce — so  she  bade 
me  call  her.  "  And  now  I  will  call  your  cousins  to 
take  you  to  your  own  room,  where  you  will  find  your 
mails,  and  they  will  help  you  to  change  your  travel- 
ing dress,  that  you  may  be  neat  when  my  nephew 
comes  home  to  dinner  at  eleven.  We  all  dine 
together,  though  I  doubt  such  late  hours  are  not  very 
good  for  the  health  of  the  young  ones.  When  I  was 
young  I  never  dined  later  than  nine  o'clock,  nor 


8  Loveday*s  History. 

thought  of  sitting  at  table  with  my  parents.  But 
times  are  changed — times  are  changed — and  my 
nephew  hath  a  right  to  command  in  his  own  house." 

I  began  to  wonder  when  she  was  going  to  stop 
talking  long  enough  to  call  my  cousins,  but  at  last 
she  blew  her  silver  whistle,  which  hung  with  her  keys 
at  her  girdle,  and  presently  two  pretty  little  girls, 
some  years  older  than  myself,  made  their  appearance, 
and  were  introduced  to  me  as  my  cousins,  Avice  and 
Katherine.  They  were  twins,  and  more  alike  than 
any  two  people  I  ever  saw.  They  were  wonderfully 
fair,  with  thick,  soft,  curling  hair  of  the  color  of  new 
flax,  or  a  thought  yellower ;  clear,  transparent  gray 
eyes,  and  a  lovely  bloom  on  their  cheeks.  I  fell  in 
love  with  them  on  the  instant.  They  only  courtesied 
when  presented  to  me,  and,  giving  me  each  a  hand, 
led  me  away. 

As  we  passed  a  great  Venice  glass,  I  remember 
being  struck  with  the  difference  in  our  looks,  for  I 
was  ever  a  true  Corbet,  with  the  great  dark  eyes,  level 
black  brows,  and  crisp  hair  of  my  race — a  regular 
black  Corby,  as  poor  Randall  used  to  call  me. 

The  twins  led  me  up  the  staircase  and  into  a  room 
furnished  with  blue,  where  were  two  little  beds  and  a 
truckle  for  a  servant.  Out  of  this  opened  a  large 
light  closet,  where  I  found  my  mails.  As  soon  as  we 
were  alone,  the  girls  found  their  tongues. 

"  We  are  glad  you  have  come  to  live  with  us  !  " 
said  Avice,  who  was  always  the  first  speaker,  and 
indeed  took  the  lead  in  every  thing,  as  I  found  out 
afterward. 

"Yes,  we  are  very  glad,  because  it  will  be  like 
having  our  sister  again  !  "  said  Katherine. 


The  .Beginning.  9 

"  A  little  like  it !  "  said  Avice,  and  then,  seeming  to 
feel  she  had  hurt  my  feelings,  she  added — 

"  You  know  nobody  can  be  quite  like  one's  own 
sister,  but  I  am  sure  we  shall  love  you,  Cousin 
Loveday  !  " 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  shall  love  you  ! "  I  returned 
warmly,  and  then  I  ventured  to  ask  :  "  Did  you 
have  another  sister,  and  is  she  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes  ! "  said  Avice,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "  She 
was  a  beautiful  little  girl,  and  she  looked  a  little  like 
you,  for  she  had  dark  hair  and  eyes.  But  she  fell 
into  the  chincough,  and  then  into  a  long  waste,  and 
died  in  spite  of  all  that  could  be  done." 

"  But  she  has  gone  to  paradise — I  am  sure  she  has, 
and  we  shall  see  her  again  some  day,"  added  Kather- 
ine,  her  eyes  shining  with  a  kind  of  steadfast  light. 
"  I  could  not  bear  it,  only  for  thinking  of  that." 

There  was  a  little  silence,  and  then  Avice  asked  me 
how  old  I  was. 

"  I  shall  be  nine  years  old  come  Michaelmas — and 
you?" 

"  We  shall  be  twelve  on  Midsummer  day.  Can  you 
read,  cousin  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  I  answered,  not  without  a  little  feel- 
ing of  vain-glory,  I  dare  say.  "  I  can  read  and  write, 
and  I  have  begun  Latin." 

"  We  can  read  and  write  a  little,  bufr  not  well  ;  " 
and  then  followed  a  comparison  of  accomplishments, 
and  soon  I  found  I  had  nothing  whereof  to  boast, 
since  my  cousins  could  play  on  the  lute  and  the  vir- 
ginals, embroider  in  all  sorts  of  stitches,  and  even 
knit — an  art  which  I  had  only  heard  of  at  that  time, 
as  practiced  in  that  same  convent  of  Gray  Nuns  whose 


10  Loveday^s  History. 

dissolution  had  sent  me  to  London.  We  grew  excel- 
lent friends  over  all  these  inquiries  and  answers,  and 
when  we  were  called  down  to  dinner  we  descended 
the  stairs,  not  hand  in  hand,  but  with  our  arms  round 
each  others'  waists. 

We  went  down  to  the  ground  floor  this  time,  and  I 
was  led  into  a  great  dining-room  where  was  a  table 
splendidly  set  out — or  so  it  seemed  to  my  unaccus- 
tomed eyes — with  snowy  napery,  silver  and  fine  col- 
ored ware,  such  as  I  had  never  seen.  They  were,  in 
fact,  china  dishes,  then  only  beginning  to  be  used  by 
the  wealthy  merchants  of  London  and  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. Sambo  and  one  or  two  'prentice  lads  were  just 
placing  the  dinner  on  the  table,  and  my  uncle  was 
standing  by  the  window,  looking  out  upon  the  garden, 
now  all  ablaze  with  flowers,  many  of  which  were  new 
to  me.  He  turned  round  as  I  entered,  and  showed  me 
one  of  the  handsomest  and  kindest  faces  I  ever  beheld 
in  my  life.  He  was  a  man  in  middle  life,  tall  and 
somewhat  stout,  though  not  unbecomingly  so,  with 
curling  brown  hair,  a  little  touched  with  gray  at  the 
temples,  large  gray  eyes  with  very  long  lashes,  and  a 
chestnut  beard  trimmed  in  the  fashion  of  the  day. 
He  was  richly  but  soberly  dressed,  and  I  noticed 
even  then  the  whiteness  and  fineness  of  his  linen.  Sea- 
coal  was  not  used  in  London  then  as  much  as  now, 
and  it  was  easier  to  keep  clean.  "  So  this  is  my  little 
niece,  is  it?"  said  he, kindly  raising  me  and  bending 
down  to  kiss  my  forehead  as  I  kneeled  to  ask  his  bless- 
ing. "  You  are  welcome,  my  dear  child.  May  the 
God  of  thy  fathers  bless  thee." 

Even  then  there  was  something  in  my  uncle's  tone 
which  struck  me — a  peculiar  solemnity  and  earnestness, 


The  Beginning.  11 

quite  different  from  the  business-like,  rapid  fashion  in 
which  Father  Barnaby  and  our  own  Sir  John  used  to 
go  through  the  same  form.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were 
really  speaking  to  some  one.  He  caused  me  to  sit  at 
his  right  hand,  and  helped  me  bountifully  from  the 
dish  of  roast  fowls  which  stood  before  him.  The 
dinner  was  elegantly  served,  and  Sambo  showed  such 
skill  in  waiting  on  his  master,  and  suuh  alacrity  in 
helping  me  to  sweetmeats  that  I  found  my  dislike  to 
him  sensibly  diminishing.  Of  course  we  children  did 
not  speak  at  the  table,  and  indeed  I  was  too  busy 
making  my  remarks  on  all  I  saw  to  care  even  for  eat- 
ing. I  admired  the  china  dishes,  so  hard  and  light 
and  so  beautifully  painted  ;  the  clear  glass  and  finely 
wrought  silver  ;  and  I  once  or  twice  really  forgot  to 
eat  in  gazing  through  the  great  glass  window  at  the 
flower  garden. 

"  You  are  looking  at  the  flowers  !  "  said  my  uncle. 
"  After  dinner  we  will  go  and  see  them  nearer." 

At  that  moment  something  made  an  odd  scratching 
noise  on  the  glass  door  which  led  into  the  garden. 
Sambo  looked  at  his  master,  who  smiled  and  nodded. 
He  opened  the  door  and  in  walked  a  stately  creature, 
which  I  should  hardly  have  guessed  to  be  a  mere  cat, 
only  for  his  loud  musical  purr.  He  was  immensely 
large,  and  had  fur  that  almost  dragged  on  the  ground, 
a  bushy  tail,  and  a  mane  or  collar  of  much  longer  fur 
round  his  neck,  and  as  he  was  of  a  yellowish  color  he 
looked  not  unlike  a  little  lion.  He  marched  up  to  my 
uncle's  side,  where  Sambo  had  already  set  a  joint-stool 
for  his  accommodation,  but  seeing  a  stranger  at  table, 
he  turned  and  greeted  me  with  great  politeness,  rub- 
bing his  head  on  my  arm  as  if  to  invite  my  caresses. 


12  Loveday's  History. 

"Do  not  be  afraid,"  said  my  uncle,  seeing  me 
shrink  a  little,  for  indeed  the  creature's  great  size  and 
strength  made  him  somewhat  formidable  to  a  stran- 
ger. "  He  is  the  best-tempered  fellow  in  the  world, 
and  a  famous  playmate,  as  you  will  soon  find  out." 

Hearing  this,and  seeing  the  cat  was  evidently  a  favor- 
ite of  my  uncle's,  I  ventured — having  finished  my 
dinner — to  stroke  him,  an  attention  which  he  received 
with  condescending  kindness.  My  aunt  poured  some 
cream  into  a  saucer,  and  Turk  drank  it  as  calmly  as  if 
it  were  a  matter  of  course — as  indeed  it  was  for  him — 
to  sit  at  table  and  eat  cream. 

"  Loveday  opens  her  eyes  ! "  said  my  aunt.  "  I  dare 
say  she  never  saw  a  cat  sit  at  table  and  be  served  like 
a  Christian  before.  Do  you  like  pets,  Niece  Loveday?" 

"  Yes,  madam  !  "  I  answered,  and  indeed  I  had  a 
kind  of  passion  for  them,  which  I  had  heretofore  grat- 
ified almost  on  the  sly,  for  my  Lady  Peckham  did 
not  like  pet.animals  of  any  kind. 

"  That  is  well,  for  we  have  plenty  of  them,"  said  my 
aunt.  "  Sambo  must  show  you  his  popinjay." 

Sambo  bowed,  and  grinned  till  his  face  seemed  all 
white  teeth. 

"  There,  run  away,  children,  and  play  in  the  garden 
if  you  like  !  "  said  my  uncle.  "  Take  Loveday  to  see 
the  flowers." 

We  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  the  girls  showed 
me  many  lovely  flowers,  such  as  I  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. 

"  My  father  trades  with  the  Dutch  merchants,  who 
bring  all  sorts  of  curious  plants  from  the  Indies," 
said  Katherine.  "  That  is  the  way  we  got  our  cat  and 
Sambo." 


The  Beginning.  13 

"  Father  bought  Sambo  from  a  man  who  treated 
him  cruelly,"  added  Avice.  "  When  he  first  came 
here  he  was  a  heathen,  but  my  aunt  has.  taught  him 
better,  and  now  he  can  say  his  paternoster  and  creed 
in  English.  We  all  like  him  because  he  is  so  droll  and 
so  kind.  My  Lord  Cardinal  wanted  him  for  a  fool, 
but  my  father  would  not  give  him  up." 

"  I  never  saw  a  black  man  before,"  said  I.  "  I  did 
not  know  there  were  such  things,  and  when  I  first  saw 
him  I  thought  it  was  the  evil  one  himself." 

"Some  of  our  neighbors  believe  he  is  not  quite 
right,"  observed  Katherine,  "  but  he  is  as  good  a  Chris- 
tian as  any  one." 

"  Better  than  some,  because  he  is  grateful !  "  said 
Avicc.  "  Come,  now,  and  we  will  show  you  the  last 
new  tree  our  father  got  from  foreign  parts.  There  is 
not  another  in  the  country,  and  we  are  in  a  great  hurry 
to  have  it  bloom,  that  we  may  see  what  the  flowers  are 
like." 

I  duly  admired  the  foreign  tree,  or  shrub,  which  had 
thick,  glossy  leaves,  and  on  which  the  flower  buds 
were  just  forming,  and  then,  Turk  appearing  and  put- 
ting in  a  claim  for  notice,  we  had  a  great  frolic  with 
him,  and  found  him  an  excellent  playfellow,  as  my 
uncle  had  said. 

When  we  went  into  the  house,  my  aunt  called  me 
up  stairs  and  showed  me  my  clothes  neatly  arranged 
in  a  press,  while  a  small  blue  bed,  like  my  cousins',  was 
being  put  up  for  me  in  the  light  closet  I  have  men- 
tioned. 

"  This  will  be  your  room  as  long  as  you  stay  here," 
said  she.  "  Let  me  see  that  you  keep  it  neat  and  order- 
ly, as  a  young  maid  should." 


14  Loveday's  History. 

I  courtesied,  and  said  I  would  do  my  best.  The 
little  room  was  very  pretty,  and  even  luxurious,  in  my 
eyes.  There  were  no  rushes  on  the  floor,  such  as  I  had 
been  used  to  seeing — and  I  now  perceived,  for  the  first 
time,  what  it  was  that  made  the  floors  all  over  the  house 
seem  so  strange  and  bare  to  me. 

"That  is  one  of  my  nephew's  new-fangled  ways,  as 
old  Dame  Madge  calls  them,"  pursued  my  aunt.  "  He 
learned  it  in  Holland  among  the  Dutch,  who  are  the 
cleanest  folks  in  the  world." 

"  Yes,  new-fangled  ways,"  muttered  the  old  dame, 
who  was  mending  somewhat  about  my  bed  cur- 
tains. "  It  was  never  a  good  world  since  these  new 
ways  came  up.  But  we  shall  see — we  shall  see  !  " 

"  I  must  needs  allow  that  the  air  in  the  house  is  much 
sweeter  since  we  disused  the  rushes,  which  are  a 
great  cover  for  dirt  and  vermin,"  pursued  my  aunt ; 
*'  though  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  work,  washing  and 
polishing  the  floors." 

"I  noticed  how  sweet  the  house  smelled,"  I  ventured 
to  say.  "  I  think  the  floors  look  pretty,  only — "  and 
then  I  stopped  in  some  confusion,  as  it  occurred  to  me 
that  I  was  making  very  free. 

"  Well,  only  what  ?  "  asked  my  aunt. 

"  Only  it  seems  a  pity  to  see  such  fine  rugs  laid 
down  to  be  walked  on,"  I  answered.  "  We  had  only 
two  at  Peckham  Hall,  and  one  was  on  the  state  bed 
and  the  other  on  my  lady's  own." 

"  You  are  an  observing  child.  Sambo  says  the 
Turks  use  these  rugs  just  as  my  brother  does,  and 
that  they  kneel  on  them  to  say  their  prayers — poor, 
deluded  creatures." 

My  aunt  chatted  on,  and  I  stood  by  her  side,  well 


The  Beginning.  15 

content  to  listen  to  her  and  answer  her  questions.  She 
had  a  remarkable  way  of  putting  every  one  at  their 
ease,  both  gentle  and  simple.  We  never  had  a  new 
housemaid  or  'prentice  who  did  not  at  once  fall  in 
love  with  Mistress  Holland. 

"You  must  not  mind  if  Dame  Madge  is  a  little 
crabbed  sometimes  !  "  said  my  aunt,  as  the  old  woman 
left  the  room.  "  She  is  jealous  of  all  newcomers,  and 
would  fain  keep  the  favor  of  master  and  mistress  al- 
together to  herself.  There,  now,  all  is  done,  I  believe," 
she  added,  as  she  hung  a  holy  water  basin  and  cruci- 
fix at  the  head  of  the  bed.  "  I  hope  you  will  be 
happy  here,  my  child." 

"I  am  sure  I  shall !  "  I  answered,  with  perfect  sin- 
cerity, and  then,  all  at  once,  1  remembered  that  this 
pleasant  house  was  not  my  home  after  all— that  in  a  few 
days  Mother  Benedict  would  probably  come  and  carry 
me  off  to  that  fate  which  had  been  waiting  for  me  all 
my  life.  I  suppose  my  face  showed  my  thoughts,  for 
my  aunt  noticed  the  change — as  what  did  she  not 
notice  which  concerned  the  comfort  of  others — and 
asked  me  what  was  the  matter. 

"  It  is  a  change  for  you,  I  know,  but  you  must  try 
not  to  be  homesick." 

"  I  am  not  homesick  ! "  I  answered.  "  Only — "  and 
then  I  dropped  on  my  knees,  hid  my  face  in  my  aunt's 
lap  and  burst  out  crying.  I  don't  know  what 
made  me.  I  should  never  have  thought  of  such  a 
thing  with  my  lady,  who,  though  always  kind,  did 
never  invite  my  caresses. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  heart  ?  What  makes  thee  cry  ? 
Tell  Aunt  Joyce  what  ails  thee,  my  dear,  tender  lamb, 
now  do  ?  "  said  my  aunt,  who  was  apt,  in  times  of  in- 


16  Loveday's  History. 

terest,  to  return  to  her  native  Devon.  I  remember, 
as  though  it  were  yesterday,  how  sweetly  sounded  in 
mine  ears  the  homely  accent,  and  the  words  of  en- 
dearment which  I  suppose  might  find  some  echo  in 
my  childish  remembrance.  Sure  'tis  a  cruel  thing  to 
deprive  young  creatures  of  those  caresses  which  even 
the  dumb  beasts  bestow  upon  their  young.  I  have 
always  thought  that  if  my  lady  had  been  more  tender 
and  gentle  with  poor  Randall  he  might  have  been 
different. 

"  Only  I  can't  Btay  here  ! "  I  sobbed  at  last. 
"  Pretty  soon  Mother  Benedict  will  send  or  come  for 
me,  and  I  shall  have  to  go  to  the  convent,  to  be  shut 
up  and  never  see  any  body,  or  run  in  the  fields  any 
more,  and  to  wear  a  horrid  gray  robe,  and  a  veil — " 
and  here  I  broke  down  again. 

"  My  child,  I  think  you  are  borrowing  trouble  !  " 
said  my  aunt,  with  a  perplexed  look.  "  I  thought  you 
were  coming  to  live  with  us.  I  heard  nothing  about 
any  convent." 

"  But  I  am  to  go  to  the  convent  !  "  I  answered. 
"  My  lady  said  so." 

"  Well,  well,  we  will  talk  to  my  nephew  about  it !  " 
said  my  aunt.  "  Don't  cry  any  more,  there's  a  lamb, 
but  wash  your  face  and  come  down  stairs  with  me, 
and  by  and  by  we  will  go  and  take  a  walk  in  the 
fields  and  see  the  old  people  in  the  almshouses.  Can 
you  sew  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  aunt !  " 

"  Then  you  shall  help  me  a  little,  if  you  will.  I  am 
making  some  napkins  of  old  worn  linen  for  one  of  the 
bedeswomen  who  has  watering  eyes,  and  you  shall 
hem  one  for  me.  As  for  the  convent,  I  would  not 


The  Beginning t  17 

trouble  about  that  just  now,  at  any  rate.     It  will  be 
time  enough  when  you  have  to  go  there." 

Somewhat  comforted,  I  washed  away  the  traces  of 
my  tears  with  the  rosewater  my  aunt  gave  me,  and 
followed  her  down  stairs  to  the  parlor,  where  my 
cousins  were  already  sitting,  the  one  at  her  sampler, 
the  other  at  her  lute,  which  she  played  very  prettily 
for  a  child.  If  my  aunt  was  in  a  hurry  for  the  nap- 
kins she  gave  me  to  hem,  she  did  not  act  wisely  in 
seating  me  at  the  window,  for  I  saw  so  much  to  ob- 
serve and  admire  that  my  work  went  on  but  slowly. 
But  I  suppose  her  object  was  rather  to  divert  me 
from  my  grief,  and  in  that  she  certainly  succeeded. 
Now  it  was  some  gay  nobleman  of  the  court  with  two 
or  three  attendants,  all  glittering  in  gold  and  em- 
broidery, who  passed  by — now  a  showman  with  a 
tame  jackanape  or  a  dancing  bear — then  a  priest  under 
a  gorgeous  canopy,  carrying  the  host  in  its  splendid  re- 
ceptacle to  some  dying  person.  I  can't  pretend  to  re- 
cite all  the  wonderful  things  I  saw.  I  could  not  help 
wondering  where  all  the  people  found  lodging,  and 
how  they  found  their  way  home  at  night.  "Now  Lon- 
don is  far  more  crowded  than  it  was  then,  and  it  in- 
creases all  the  time,  despite  the  laws  made  to  check 
the  growth  of  large  towns.  But  I  do  not  think  it  can 
ever  be  much  larger  than  it  is  at  present. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MORE   REMEMBRANCES. 

|  BOUT  four  o'clock  my  uncle  came  in  from  his 
business,  and  we  had  each  a  bun  and  some- 
what else — at  least  we  young  ones  did — for 
my  uncle  never  ate  between  dinner  and  supper.  He 
greeted  me  kindly,  asked  how  I  had  passed  my  day, 
looked  at  and  commended  my  work  and  that  of  his 
daughters,  and  asked  them  if  they  had  somewhat  to 
repeat  to  him.  Whereat  Katherine  recited  the  twenty- 
third  psalm  in  English,  and  Avice  a  part  of  the  hund- 
red and  nineteenth. 

"  And  what  can  my  little  niece  say  for  me  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  can  say  the  penitential  psalms  in  Latin,"  I  an- 
swered ;  "  but  I  do  not  know  them  in  English." 

"  Then  you  shall  read  a  little  for  me  instead,"  said 
he  ;  and  drawing  me  to  his  side  he  took  from  his  desk 
a  bound  book,  and  turning  over  the  leaves,  he  pointed 
out  a  passage,  which  I  read.  It  was  new  and  strange 
to  me,  for  it  talked  of  God's  care  for  flowers  and  little 
fowls,  and  bade  men  consider  that,  as  they  were  worth 
much  more  than  these  things,  so  our  Heavenly  Father 
would  provide  for  all  our  needs.  It  ended  thus: 

"  Care  not  for  the  daye  f oloynge  ;  for  the  day  f ol- 


More  Remembrances.  19 

oynge  shall  care  for  yt  sylfe.  Eche  day's  trouble  is 
sufficient  for  the  same  silfe  day." 

"  Do  you  know  whose  words  these  are  ?  "  asked  my 
uncle,  as  I  finished. 

"  No,  uncle,"  I  answered. 

"They  are  our  dear  Lord's  own  words,"  said  he, 
"and  spoken  for  our  comfort.  Do  not  you  forget 
them." 

"  I  suppose  Our  Lady  made  Him  say  them  !  "  I  ven- 
tured to  remark. 

"No,  dear  child.  Our  Lord  needs  no  one  to  make 
Him  send  us  comfort  and  help,  since  He  himself  loves 
us,  and  died  to  redeem  us.  Never  doubt  his  love,  my 
child.  That  never  fails  those  who  seek  him,  and  even 
though  he  leads  them  through  dark  and  troubled 
waters — nay,  even  through  the  very  fiery  furnace — it 
is  but  to  guide  them  to  his  rest  at  last." 

I  saw  my  aunt  sigh  at  these  words,  as  if  they  had 
some  meaning  more  than  met  the  ear.  For  my  own 
part,  they  filled  me  with  amazement.  I  had  always 
been  taught  to  think  of  our  Lord  as  a  harsh  and 
severe  judge,  who  relented  toward  us — when  he  did 
relent — only  at  the  intercession,  or  rather  commands, 
of  Our  Lady,  his  mother.  It  seemed  very  strange  ; 
but  I  was  presently  diverted  from  the  consideration 
thereof  by  my  uncle's  next  words. 

"  Did  my  Lady  Peckham  send  me  no  letter  by  you, 
dear  child?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  uncle  !  "  I  answered,  remembering  all  at 
once  the  packet  my  lady  had  placed  among  my 
things,  with  a  strict  injunction  to  deliver  it  to  Master 
Gabriel  Corbet  directly  on  my  arrival.  I  ran  up  to 
my  room,  and  finding  the  package  safe  and  sound  in 


20  Loveday's  History. 

my  book  of  Hours,  where  it  bad  been  laid  for  safe 
keeping,  I  brought  it  down  and  put  it  into  my  uncle's 
hand.  He  cut  the  band  of  floss  silk  which  confined 
it,  and  was  soon  engaged  in  its  perusal.  Seeing,  I 
suppose,  that  I  was  watching  his  face,  my  aunt  directed 
my  attention  to  some  pageant  passing  in  the  street. 
My  eyes,  however,  soon  stole  back  to  my  uncle's  face, 
and  I  was  startled  to  see  the  change  and  the  look  of 
grief  which  had  come  over  it.  Forgetting  all  decorum 
in  my  anxiety,  I  cried  out: 

"  Oh,  uncle,  must  I  go  to  the  convent  ?  I  will  be 
BO  good  if  you  will  only  let  me  stay  here." 

Katherine  and  Avice  looked  scared,  and  so  was  I 
when  I  bethought  me  of  what  I  had  done.  My  uncle, 
however,  did  not  seem  angry.  On  the  contrary,  he 
put  out  his  hand  and  drew  me  toward  him. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Loveday,  and  you  also,  my  children, 
and  learn  what  it  costs  to  nourish  a  grudge,"  said  he. 
"  When  we  were  both  young,  my  brother  and  I  quar- 
reled. No  matter  about  what.  I  thought  myself 
wholly  the  injured  party,  and,  despite  all  our  good 
mother's  efforts,  I  would  not  be  reconciled.  So  my 
brother,  who  was  the  younger  of  us  two,  after  vainly 
trying  to  bring  me  to  a  better  mind,  betook  himself 
with  his  young  wife  to  a  little  estate  in  the  west 
country,  which  had  been  left  him  by  a  kinsman. 
More  than  once  did  he  send  overtures  for  a 
reconciliation,  but  I — miserable  sinner  that  I  was — 
would  not  even  read  his  letters.  Meantime  he, 
riding  home  from  market,  was  set  upon  by  robbers 
and  miserably  murdered.  A  brother  of  the  kins- 
man who  left  him  the  estate  started  up  with  a  claim 
which  was  made  good  by  the  help  of  some  great  man 


More  Remembrances.  21 

his  patron.  My  sister  died  from  the  effects  of  grief, 
and  this  poor  child  was  thrown  upon  the  world 
without  a  protector,  and  but  for  the  kindness  of  my 
Lady  Peckham,  whose  husband  was  her  kinsman,  she 
might  have  grown  up  a  wretched,  forlorn  beggar. 
I  humbly  thank  my  dearest  Lord,"  and  here  he  raised 
his  cap,  "who  hath  both  granted  me  conviction  of 
sin  and  His  forgiveness  for  the  same;  but  He,  like 
earthly  parents,  sometimes  leaves  the  offender  to 
smart  for  his  fault,  even  though  he  is  forgiven.  I, 
who  would  give  my  hand,  could  it  avail,  to  call 
my  brother's  daughter  my  own  and  bring  her  up  as 
such,  have  forfeited  that  right  by  my  cruel  and  un- 
feeling conduct.  My  Lady  Peckham  has  the  right  to 
dispose  of  Loveday,  and  it  is  her  will  that  she  should 
go  to  be  brought  up  at  the  convent  of  Gray  Nuns  not 
far  from  Dartford."  So  there  was  no  help  for  it. 
I  had  much  ado  to  restrain  my  sobs,  and  I  saw  the 
gray  eyes  of  the  twins  fill  with  tears. 

"  But,  uncle,"  I  faltered  and  then  stopped. 

"  Loveday  does  not  like  the  thought  of  being  a 
nun  !  "  said  my  aunt  Joyce,  finishing  the  sentence  for 
me. 

"She  is  not  to  become  one  just  now!"  said  my 
uncle.  "  It  seems  my  lady  has  promised  her  husband, 
Sir  Edward,  that  she  shall  not  be  professed  till  she 
is  twenty-one,  nor  then,  unless  by  her  own  choice." 

"  Heaven  help  her,  what  choice  will  she  have  by 
that  time  ?  "  said  my  aunt. 

"  A  good  many  things  may  happen  in  twelve 
years  !  "  answered  my  uncle,  dryly.  "  These  are  days 
of  change  and  shaking,  you  know,  aunt.  But  as 
Loveday  is  not  to  go  to  this  same  convent  till  she  is 


22  Loveday's  History. 

sent  for,  we  will  enjoy  her  company  while  she  is  here. 
1  Each  day's  trouble  is  sufficient  for  the  same  self 
day,'  as  we  have  just  read.  But,  my  children,  if  your 
father  has  humbled  himself  before  you,  let  not  the 
lesson  be  lost  upon  you.  Remember,  never  to  let  the 
seed  of  anger  and  malice  take  root  in  your  hearts — 
no,  not  for  an  hour.  Sure  you  may  see  in  my  case 
what  evil  and  bitter  fruit  it  may — nay,  must  bring 
forth — yea,  even  after  the  sin  hath  been  confessed 
and  done  away  by  Christ  His  own  blood  and  sacri- 
fice." 

Young  as  I  was,  these  words  of  my  uncle  made  an 
impression  on  my  mind  which  was  never  wholly  de- 
faced, though  covered  by  the  teachings  of  later  years. 
My  lady's  contrivance  for  evading  her  promise  to  her 
husband  was  certainly  ingenious.  In  these  days  we 
should  call  it  Jesuitical,  but  we  had  not  then  begun 
to  hear  very  much  about  the  Jesuits,  though  there 
has  been  coil  enough  since. 

"  It  is  a  pleasant  evening,  and  the  air  is  fresh  and 
cool  after  the  warm  day,"  said  my  uncle,  after  a  little 
pause.  "  Get  your  hoods,  my  children,  and  we  will 
walk  out  to  the  Minories,  and  then  visit  the  old  people 
at  the  almshouse." 

Children's  hearts  are  light.  Of  course  I  was  pleased 
at  the  notion  of  a  walk,  and  by  the  time  I  had  been 
out  half  an  hour  I  had  persuaded  myself  that  some- 
thing might  come  to  pass  to  prevent  my  going  to  the 
nunnery  after  all;  and  I  was  ready  to  observe  and  en- 
joy all  the  sights  of  the  way.  We  had  not  gone  far 
before  I  heard  a  great  whining  and  grunting  behind 
us,  and  looking  round  I  perceived  that  we  were  fol- 
lowed by  two  lusty,  well-fed  pigs,  which  showed 


More  Remembrances.  23 

every  desire  for  a  better  acquaintance.  I  had  a  dis- 
like to  hogs,  and  was  always  a  little  afraid  of  them. 
I  pressed  closer  to  my  uncle,  who  was  leading  me  by 
the  hand,  the  twins  going  before  us,  and  Sambo  fol- 
lowing with  a  great  can,  the  use  of  which  I  did  not 
understand. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  said  my  uncle — then  seeing  the 
direction  of  my  eyes — "  Oh,  the  pigs  ;  they  will  not 
hurt  you.  Why  a  country  maid  should  not  fear  pigs, 
surely.  But  you  wonder  why  they  follow  us;  I  will 
show  you." 

He  took  from  his  pockets  some  crusts  of  bread 
which  he  threw  to  the  pigs,  and  of  which  they  par- 
took with  little  grunts  of  content  and  much  shak- 
ing of  broad  ears  and  curly  tails.  I  even  fancied 
they  cast  glances  of  positive  regard  and  affection 
from  their  queer  little  eyes.  Their  repast  being 
ended,  they  turned  and  trotted  back,  I  suppose,  to 
wait  for  some  other  patron. 

"  Those  are  St.  Anthony's  pigs,"  said  my  uncle. 
"  The  proctors  of  St.  Anthony's  Hospital  are  used  to 
take  from  the  market  people  such  pigs  as  are  ill-fed 
and  unfit  for  meat.  These  have  the  ear  slit  and  a 
bell  tied  round  their  necks,  and  being  thus,  as  it  were, 
made  free  of  the  city,  they  wander  about  at  will,  and 
being  fed  by  charitable  persons  become  very  tame  and 
familiar,  and  learn  to  know  and  watch  for  their 
patrons,  as  you  see.  But  these  fellows  are  growing  so 
fat  I  fear  I  shall  not  have  them  to  feed  much  longer. 
As  soon  as  they  grow  plump  and  well-liking,  the 
proctor  takes  them  up  and  they  are  slaughtered  for 
the  use  of  the  hospital." 

It  seemed  to  me  rather  odd  even  then,  I  remember, 


24  Loveday*s  IRstory. 

that  a  saint  should  be  a  patron  of  pigs,  but  I  could 
not  help  thinking  I  should  have  liked  St.  Anthony 
far  better  than  St.  Dominic,  who  tore  the  poor  sparrow 
in  pieces  for  coming  into  church.  We  had  now  gone 
quite  a  little  way  from  home,  when  we  passed  an  abbey 
or  convent  shut  in  behind  a  high  wall,  and  I  saw  that 
there  was  an  open  space  before  us.  In  effect,  we  soon 
came  to  a  great  green  field,  where  were  collected  many 
fine  cows,  some  lying  down  chewing  the  cud,  others 
in  the  milker's  hands,  and  still  others  patiently  waiting 
their  turn.  A  sturdy,  farmer-looking  man  was  over- 
seeing the  work,  and  a  neat  woman  was  straining  the 
milk  and  pouring  it  warm  and  rich  into  the  vessels 
brought  for  its  reception.  I  noticed  that  she  gave 
good  measure  and  many  a  kind  word  to  the  feeble 
old  bodies  and  little  children  who  brought  their  jugs 
and  their  half-pence.* 

"  Well,  Dame  Goodman,"  said  my  uncle,  "  you  are 
busy  as  ever." 

"  Oh,  yes,  your  worship,  we  are  always  busy  at  this 
hour,"  answered  the  dame.  "  More  people  come  to 
us  at  night  than  in  the  morning.  Where  is  your 
half -penny,  Cicely  Higgins  ?  " 

"  I  have  none  to-night,"  answered  a  pale  scared-look- 
ing child.  "  Mother  has  been  sick  all  week,  and  we 
have  no  money." 

"  And  where  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  child  sadly.  "We 
have  not  seen  him  in  many  days,  and  mother  cries  so 
I  can't  ask  her." 

"  He  is  where  he  deserves  to  be,  and  that  is  in 
prison,  from  which  he  will  come  to  be  burned  with 
*  This  was  that  tract  now  known  as  Goodman's  fields. 


More  Remembrances.  25 

the  next  batch  of  heretics  !  "  said  a  sour,  thin-faced 
old  woman  ;  "  and  serve  him  right,  too,  for  speaking 
slightingly  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  I  would  they 
were  all  served  with  the  same  sauce." 

"  For  shame,  dame  !  Have  you  a  woman's  heart  in 
your  breast,  that  you  speak  so  to  the  worse  than  orphan 
child  ?  "  said  my  uncle,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  ho  !  I  did  not  know  your  worship  was  so 
near,"  answered  the  old  woman,  with  a  cackling 
laugh.  "  Methinks  we  are  very  tender  to  heretics — 
we  are  ! " 

"  We  are  tender  to  other  sinners  besides  heretics, 
or  a  wicked,  hard-hearted  old  woman,  who  owes  two 
quarters  rent,  would  be  turned  into  the  street  as  she 
deserves,"  rejoined  my  aunt,  severely.  "  You  had 
better  keep  civil  words,  Dame  Davis,  at  least  until 
you  can  pay  your  debts." 

The  old  woman  turned  pale  at  this  home  thrust, 
and  muttering  something  about  meaning  no  harm, 
retired  into  the  crowd.  My  uncle  asked  the  child  a 
few  questions,  and  then,  turning  to  the  dame  who  was 
measuring  the  milk,  he  bade  her  fill  the  child's  pitcher, 
at  the  same  time  putting  a  piece  of  silver  into  her 
hand. 

"That  I  will,  your  worship,  and  give  her  good 
measure  too  !  "  answered  Dame  Goodman.  "  Jenny 
Higgins  is  a  good,  hard-working  creature,  and  not  to 
be  blamed  for  her  husband's  follies.  Drat  the  man, 
why  can't  he  believe  as  his  betters  tell  him,  and  not 
go  prying  where  he  has  no  business  ?  " 

My  uncle  smiled,  but  sadly  methought,  and  Sambo's 
great  can  being  filled,  we  walked  away  by  another 
road. 


26  Loveday*s  History. 

"  Who  was  that  old  woman,  aunt  ?  You  seemed 
to  know  her,"  said  he  presently. 

"  Who  was  it  but  old  Madge  Davis,  who  lives  in 
your  house  in  the  Minories,  and  has  paid  no  rent  for 
six  months,"  answered  my  aunt.  "  She  is  a  bad 
handful,  and  keeps  the  other  tenants  in  constant  hot 
water  by  her  meddling  and  tattling." 

"  That  must  be  seen  to.  I  think  we  will  put  her  in 
the  cottage  with  old  John.  He  is  so  deaf  she  can  not 
tattle  to  him,  and  there  will  be  no  one  else  to  quarrel 
with." 

"  Most  people  would  turn  her  into  the  street,"  said 
my  aunt  ;  "  and  indeed  she  deserves  nothing  better." 

"  Ah,  dear  aunt,  were  we  all  to  have  our  deserts 
who  should  escape  ?  "  asked  my  uncle,  sighing.  "  It 
would  ill  become  me,  to  whom  have  been  forgiven 
ten  thousand  talents,  to  take  my  fellow-servant  by 
the  throat  who  owes  me  but  an  hundred  pence." 

I  did  not  understand  the  allusion  at  the  time,  but 
afterward  I  read  the  story  aloud  to  my  uncle  in  his 
great  book.  We  had  now  come  some  distance  and 
were  arrived  at  another  field,  inclosed,  but  with  con- 
venient paths  and  turnstiles  for  foot  passengers.  On 
the  side  of  this  field  toward  the  street  were  about 
half  a  dozen  small,  but  neat  and  well-built  two-story 
cottages,  each  with  its  little  garden-plot  stocked  with 
pot  herbs  and  some  homely  flowers.  In  most  of 
them  the  windows  were  open,  and  on  the  sills, 
which  were  quite  low,  lay  a  clean  white  cloth  and  a 
rosary.  The  inmates  were  mostly  bed-rid,  but  in  one 
or  two  the  old  man  or  woman  might  be  seen  sitting 
bolstered  up  in  a  great  chair.  I  at  once  guessed  that 
these  were  almshouses  of  some  sort.  My  cousins  told 


More  Remembrances.  27 

me  afterward  that  they  were  founded  by  some  prior 
of  the  Priory  of  Trinity,  a  kinsman  of  our  own,  who 
had  left  a  provision  for  the  care  of  the  poor  bedes- 
men and  women. 

I  now  found  out  the  use  of  the  great  can  of  milk 
which  Sambo  had  brought  from  the  abbey  field.  In 
every  window  stood  a  little  brown  jug,  which  the 
blackamoor  proceeded  to  fill  from  the  vessel  he  car- 
ried. The  good  fellow  seemed  to  enjoy  his  work  of 
charity,  to  judge  by  the  grins  and  nods  he  bestowed 
on  the  old  folks.  Most  thanked  him  heartily,  but  one 
old  woman  turned  away  her  head,  and  when  my  aunt 
rather  mischievously  asked  her  if  she  did  not  want 
any  milk,  she  muttered  that  it  turned  her  against  it  to 
see  that  heathen  nigger  pour  it  out. 

"  Never  mind  her,"  said  my  uncle  to  Sambo,  who 
looked  greatly  affronted,  as  well  he  might.  "  She  is  a 
poor  childish  creature  you  know,"  and,  taking  the  can 
from  the  black  man's  hand,  he  filled  the  jug  himself, 
and  passed  on  smiling,  while  Sambo  muttered  that 
Massa  was  a  heap  too  good. 

The  last  cottage  was  the  neatest  in  the  row,  and  a 
hale-looking  old  man  was  training  a  honeysuckle 
round  the  door.  I  wondered  why  he  was  there,  till  I 
looked  in  at  the  window  and  espied  a  wasted  old  woman 
propped  up  in  the  bed,  looking  more  like  death  than 
life.  My  uncle  stopped  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  the  old  man,  while  we  young  ones  made  ac- 
quaintance with  a  white  cat  and  two  kittens  which 
were  basking  in  the  sun. 

"  With  all  my  heart — -with  all  my  heart ! "  we  heard 
the  old  man  say,  presently.  "  There  is  plenty  of  room 
up  stairs  and  the  little  lass  can  wait  on  Mary  at  odd 


28  Lov eddy's  History. 

times.  Poor  soul,  poor  soul !  But  will  not  your  wor- 
ship come  in  .and  have  a  word  with  my  poor  dame  ? 
It  does  her  so  much  good.  And  meantime  the  young 
ladies  can  look  at  the  garden  and  the  birds." 

We  went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house  accord- 
ingly, where  we  found  a  neat  little  garden-plot  in 
which  was  a  tame  sea-gull  running  about  in  company 
with  a  hedge-pig,  a  lame  goose,  and  a  queer  little  dog, 
which  always  seemed  to  go  on  three  legs.  We  amused 
ourselves  with  the  animals,  which  came  to  us  at  once, 
as  if  quite  used  to  being  noticed,  till  my  uncle  called 
us.  On  the  way  home,  he  told  my  aunt  that  he  had 
arranged  with  the  old  man  to  let  Ciceley  Higgins's 
mother  live  in  the  upper  room  of  his  cottage  for  the 
present.  It  seems  each  of  the  old  people  were  enti- 
tled to  an  attendant,  but  John  being  a  hale  man  for 
his  great  age,  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  privilege, 
but  cared  for  his  wife  himself. 

My  uncle  had  some  control  over  these  houses  by 
virtue  of  his  relationship  to  the  founder,  I  believe,  and, 
therefore,  could  put  in  whom  he  pleased.  There  were 
many  such  small  charitable  foundations  about  London 
in  those  days,  but  they  were  mostly  swept  away  in  the 
great  storm  which  destroyed  all  the  religious  houses 
in  the  land.  It  was  a  storm  which  cleared  the  air,  no 
doubt,  but  it  left  some  sad  wrecks  behind  it,  as  is  the 
way  of  tempests. 

When  we  reached  home  we  had  supper,  at  which 
two  or  three  of  my  uncle's  friends  joined  us — elderly, 
sober  men  like  himself.  We  young  ones  went  to  bed 
directly  after,  and  thus  ended  my  first  day  of  London. 


CHAPTER  m. 

ANOTHER   CHANGE. 

C|5e5|t|OR  a  few  days  I  was  kept  in  quite-a  fever  of 
SlSSS  suspense,  thinking  every  time  I  heard  a 
Mftgral  strange  voice  or  an  unusual  noise  in  the 
house,  that  some  one  had  come  for  me  ;  but  as  the 
days  passed  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks  into  months, 
and  I  heard  nothing  from  Mother  Benedict,  I  began 
to  make  myself  at  home  in  my  uncle's  house.  My  old 
life  in  Somersetshire  came  to  seem  like  a  dream — 
almost  as  much  so  as  that  still  further  away  time 
when  I  lived  at  Hatcombe  farm  with  my  father  and 
mother.  I  practiced  my  lute,  and  worked  at  my  white 
seam  and  tapestry,  and  kept  up  my  Latin,  learning  a 
lesson  every  day  which  I  said  to  my  uncle  at  night, 
when  he  never  failed  to  reward  me,  when  I  had  been 
diligent,  with  a  story  out  of  his  great  book.  For 
recreation  we  played  with  our  dolls  and  the  cat, 
worked  in  our  own  little  gardens,  and  took  walks  with 
my  uncle  and  aunt  to  see  poor  people.  Sometimes 
we  had  playmates  of  our  own  to  visit  us,  but  not  often, 
and  I  think  we  preferred  each  other's  society  at  all 
times  to  that  of  outsiders. 

Once,  my  uncle  took  us  out  of  town  to  spend  the 
day  with  a  farmer  who  rented  certain  lands  from  him. 
We  went  away  early  in  the  morning,  my  aunt  riding 


30  Loveday's  History. 

a  sober  palfrey,  and  we  children  occupying  a  horse- 
litter  under  the  charge  of  two  or  three  stout  serving 
men  ;  for,  despite  the  severities  exercised  toward  rob- 
bers and  broken  men,  the  ways  about  London  were 
dangerous  for  small  parties.  We  met  with  no  adven- 
tures, however,  and  when  we  reached  the  open  heath, 
my  aunt  allowed  us  to  get  down  and  walk,  on  condi- 
tion that  we  did  not  go  far  away.  I  shall  never  for- 
get how  delightful  was  the  feel  of  the  short  springy 
turf  under  my  feet  after  the  stony  paths  of  the  city. 
I  would  have  liked  to  rove  far  and  wide  ;  but  this  my 
aunt  forbade,  and  I  had  to  content  myself  with  gath- 
ering such  flowers  as  grew  near  at  hand.  We  arrived 
at  the  farm  about  nine  of  the  clock,  and  found  the 
family  had  risen  from  dinner,  and  were  dispersed 
about  their  several  occupations.  In  those  days  a 
farmer's  wife  would  rise,  and  have  all  her  maids  stir- 
ring by  three  o'clock  at  latest  in  summer-time,  and 
her  day  ended  by  seven  or  eight.  The  whoie  family 
dined  together  between  eight  and  nine,  and  master 
and  mistress  worked  as  hard  as  any  one.  Now  some 
of  our  farmers'  dames  must  ape  their  betters  by  put- 
ting off  their  dinners  till  ten  o'clock,  and  cannot,  for- 
sooth, soil  their  fingers  with  the  dung-fork.  I  don't 
know  what  the  world  is  coming  to  for  my  part. 

Dame  Green  gave  us  the  warmest  welcome,  and  at 
once  set  her  daughters  and  maids  to  covering  the  table 
with  bread  and  butter,  cream,  ginger  and  saffron 
bread,  and  a  great  cold  pie  like  a  fortification,  with  all 
sorts  of  country  dainties.  We  young  ones  did  ample 
justice  to  all  the  good  things,  but  I  saw  that  my  aunt 
ate  but  little,  and  seemed  sad  and  distraught. 

"  You  have  some  one  with  you  ?  "  said  my  aunt,  as 


Another  Change.  31 

a  somewhat  high-pitched  voice,  with  a  strong  London 
accent,  made  itself  heard  without. 

"  Yes,  my  brother-in-law's  widow,  and  I  wish  she 
were  any  where  else!  "  said  Dame  Green,  with  a  face 
of  disgust.  "  Poor  Thomas  Green  died  bankrupt,  and 
Mistress  Jane  hath  no  refuge  but  her  brother's  house." 

"  And  a  very  good  refuge  too  ! "  said  my  aunt. 
"  'Tis  well  for  her  that  she  hath  such  a  home  open  to 
her." 

"  She  does  not  think  so,  madam.  To  hear  her  talk, 
one  would  think  she  was  in  banishment  among  the 
savages.  I  wish  she  were  any  where  else  than  here, 
turning  the  girls'  heads  with  her  talk  about  tourneys 
and  court  fashions — much  she  ever  saw  of  them  ! 
But  here  she  comes  to  answer  for  herself."  As  she 
spoke,  a  woman  entered  the  room  dressed  in  widow's 
mourning.  'She  must  once  have  been  pretty,  in  a 
coarse,  bouncing  fashion,  and  she  wore  her  weeds  with 
a  kind  of  jaunty  air.  Dame  Green  presented  her  to 
my  aunt. 

"  Dear  me,  Mistress  Holland,  who  would  have  ex- 
pected to  see  you  in  the  country  to-day,  of  all  days  in 
the  year  !  "  cried  the  lady  in  a  shrill,  affected  voice. 
"  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  staid  and 
taken  the  young  ladies  to  see  the  spectacle.  I  have 
been  fuming  all  the  morning  at  being  shut  up  in  this 
wild  place. '* 

We  children  looked  at  each  other,  wondering  what 
great  sight  we  had  missed.  My  aunt  replied  gravely  : 

"Such  sights  are  far  too  sad  and  dreadful  for 
young  eyes.  Indeed,  I  know  not  how  any  one  can  take 
pleasure  in  witnessing  the  horrible  death  of  a  fellow- 
creature." 


32  Loveday^s  History. 

Mistress  Jane  looked  a  little  abashed. 

"  But  these  are  heretics  and  blasphemers,  madam  ! 
Surely  you  will  allow  that  they  deserve  their  deaths." 

"  If  we  all  had  our  deserts,  we  should  be  cast  into 
a  hotter  fire  than  Smithfield  !  "  said  my  aunt.  "  Even 
the  fire  that  never  can  be  quenched." 

Mistress  Jane  looked  decidedly  offended. 

"  One  would  think  you  were  one  of  the  Gospelers 
yourself,  madam  !  For  my  part,  I  ever  paid  my  dues 
to  Holy  Church  and  took  the  sacrament  regular  on 
the  great  feast  days,  and  I  have  always  given  alms 
in  charity — yes,  to  every  begging  friar  that  came 
along,  besides  making  two  pilgrimages  to  the  shrine 
of  Saint  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  and  if  that  won't  in- 
sure my  salvation,  I  wonder  what  will  ?  I'm  not  like 
some  folks  that  grudge  a  poor  widow  so  much  as  a 
jaunt  to  London,"  with  a  spiteful  glance  at  her  sis- 
ter. "  Every  one  knows  'tis  a  good  work  to  assist  at 
the  burning  of  a  heretic." 

We  children  glanced  at  each  other  again,  which  my 
aunt  seeing,  after  exchanging  a  look  with  our  hostess, 
said  rather  quickly — 

"If  you  have  finished  your  dinners,  children,  you 
may  run  out  and  play." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  !  "  said  the  dame.  "  Dolly,  take 
the  young  ladies  out  and  show  them  the  new  chickens 
and  the  little  ducklings  swimming  in  the  pond." 

I,  for  one,  would  rather  have  staid  to  hear  the  talk 
in  which  I  felt  a  kind  of  dreadful  interest,  but  I  was 
used  to  obey  without  a  word,  of  course.  Dolly  was  a 
nice,  good-natured,  bouncing  girl,  who  was  much  de- 
lighted with  the  new  ribbons  and  kirtle  my  aunt  had 
brought  for  her.  She  did  her  best  to  entertain  us, 


Another  Change.  33 

leading  us  all  about  the  farm  and  showing  us  the 
young  fowls  and  the  lambs  at  play  in  the  pasture. 
In  the  course  of  our  rambles  we  passed  a  little  ruin- 
ous house,  half -overgrown  with  nettles  and  brambles, 
but  yet  bearing  the  marks  of  having  once  been  a 
church-building  of  some  sort. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Katherine. 

Dolly  crossed  herself.  "  That  is  the  hermit's  cell," 
said  she,  "  but  no  one  lives  there  now.  The  place  has 
an  evil  name,  and  is  haunted." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  it  ?  "  asked  Kath- 
erine. 

Dolly  hurried  us  to  some  distance  from  the  scene, 
and  then  told  us  the  story,  which  at  this  distance  of 
time  I  do  not  clearly  remember,  only  that  it  was  that 
of  a  hermit  who  was  once  very  holy  and  even  worked 
miracles. 

"  They  say  he  had  an  image  of  the  Virgin-of  such 
wonderful  power,  that  it  would  bow  its  head  and 
spread  out  its  hands  to  bless  whoever  brought  it  an 
offering.  But  by  and  by  the  hermit  got  into  a 
strange  way,  refused  to  say  masses  in  the  little  chapel 
you  see  there,  and  was  heard  at  night,  talking  with 
some  invisible  person.  At  last,  one  morning  when  he 
had  not  been  seen  for  a  long  time,  search  was  made 
for  him,  but  naught  could  they  find  but  his  gown.and 
breviary,  and  the  holy  image  which  lay  dasned  all  in 
fragments  on  the  floor  of  the  chapel." 

This  is  the  tale  as  nearly  as  I  remember  it.  Dolly 
added,  that  since  then,  lights  were  often  seen,  and 
voices  heard  in  the  ruins,  and  that  no  one  would  go 
near  them  after  dark  ;  indeed  it  was  regarded  as  so 
dangerous  to  do  so  that  her  father  had  strictly  for- 
bidden it. 


34  Loveday^s  History. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house  we  found  my 
uncle  had  arrived.  He  greeted  us  kindly  as  usual, 
but  his  face  looked  worn  and  had  a  set  expression,  as 
of  one  who  has  been  forced  against  his  will  to  behold 
some  horrible  sight.  But  I  had  not  much  time  to 
speculate  on  his  face.  I  had  not  been  well  lately,  and 
had  been  subject  to  fits  of  coldness  and  swooning, 
which  my  aunt  declared  were  caused  by  a  tertian  ague. 
I  suppose  I  might  have  over-fatigued  myself,  for  one 
of  these  same  fits  came  on  now,  and  I  came  near  fall- 
ing from  my  seat. 

I  was  put  to  bed  with  all  speed,  and  dosed  with  I 
know  not  what  hot  and  spicy  cordials  from  the  dame's 
stores  ;  but  all  did  not  serve.  I  had  a  hard  chill,  and 
then  a  fever,  after  which  J  fell  asleep.  When  I 
waked  all  was  quiet,  only  for  the  noises  out  of  doors. 
I  felt  very  comfortable,  though  weak  and  disinclined 
to  stir.  So  I  lay  still,  and  watched  the  bees  buzzing 
in  the  eglantine  and  jasmine  round  the  casement, 
till  I  became  aware  of  some  one  talking  in  the  next 
room,  the  door  of  which  was  half  open.  The  voices 
were  those  of  my  uncle  and  aunt. 

"  So  he  met  his  death  bravely  ?  "  said  my  aunt. 

"  Like  a  hero  !  "  answered  my  uncle.  "  Even  when 
he  parted  from  his  wife,  who  by  the  kindness  of  the 
sheriff  was  allowed  to  take  leave  of  him  just  outside 
the  prison  gate,  he  showed  no  signs  of  giving  way, 
but  kissed  her  and  sent  his  blessing  to  his  child,  as  if 
he  had  been  setting  out  on  an  ordinary  journey." 

"And  she?" 

"  She  was  no  less  brave  than  himself,  poor  heart, 
bidding  him  have  no  care  for  her — she  should  do  very 
well,  He  bade  her  so  to  live  as  that  they  should 


Another  Change.  35 

meet  in  heaven  ;  whereat  one  that  stood  by  struck  him 
on  the  mouth,  bidding  him  be  silent  for  a  foul- 
mouthed  heretic.  Whereat,  Higgins  turned  to  him 
and  said  calmly — '  God  give  thee  repentance,  friend, 
for  an'  if  He  do  not,  thou  art  in  a  worse  case  than  I.' 
When  he  had  passed,  and  not  before,  did  the  poor  wife 
fall  down  in  a  fit,  and  was  charitably  cared  for  by 
some  women  of  her  acquaintance." 

"  And  Higgins  was  brave  to  the  last  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  the  very  last  moment.  He  would  not  so 
much  as  listen  to  the  promise  of  pardon  if  he  would 
repent,  and  commended  his  soul  to  God  as  the  faggots 
were  lighted.  There  was  plenty  of  tar  and  resin 
among  them,  and  I  think  he  suffered  not  long." 

"  Thank  Heaven  ! "  said  my  aunt,  and  I  knew  by 
her  voice  that  she  was  weeping. 

"  But  oh,  nephew,  when  will  all  this  end  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  aunt ;  but  I  trust  and  believe  that  it 
will  end  in  the  establishment  of  truth  and  a  free 
Gospel  in  all  this  land.  It  may  not  be  in  our  time, 
but  it  will  surely  come." 

Here  I  made  some  movement,  and  my  aunt  coming 
to  me,  I  heard  no  more.  But  I  often  thought  of  the 
conversation  afterward,  and  puzzled  over  it.  I  had 
been  brought  up  by  my  Lady  Peckham  to  think  a 
heretic  the  worst  of  criminals.  Yet  here  were  mine 
uncle  and  aunt,  the  very  best  people  I  had  ever  known, 
whose  sympathy  was  clearly  on  the  side  of  one  at 
least  of  these  heretics.  Childlike,  I  turned  the  matter 
over  and  over  in  my  mind  without  ever  mentioning  it 
to  any  one,  or  asking  for  a  solution  of  my  puzzles. 

It  was  not  thought  best  for  me  to  return  to  London 
that  night,  and,  indeed,  I  was  not  able.  I  staid  at 


36  Loveday*s  History. 

the  farm  some  weeks,  part  of  the  time  having  my 
cousins  for  company.  It  was  pretty  dull  at  first,  but 
as  I  grew  better  and  able  to  go  about,  I  liked  it  very 
well.  My  only  trouble  was  Mistress  Jenny  Green, 
whom  I  came  absolutely  to  hate.  She  was  always 
catechising  me  about  my  uncle's  family,  what  conr 
pany  they  kept,  what  furniture,  etc.,  they  had,  where 
we  went  to  church,  and  all  sorts  of  trifling  particulars. 
At  other  times  she  would  spend  hours  in  bewailing 
her  hard  lot,  and  describing  the  fine  things  she  had 
enjoyed  in  her  London  home.  Truly,  if  she  spent  half 
what  she  said,  'tis  no  wonder  her  husband  became 
bankrupt,  poor  man.  Then  she  took  a  great  fit  of  devo- 
tion— would  go  to  matins  and  vespers  and  all  other 
services  at  a  convent  church  not  far  away  ;  kept 
fasts  and  vigils,  and  had  even  made  up  her  mind 
to  receive  from  the  priest  of  that  house  the 
widow's  mantle  and  ring ;  *  but  a  suitor  from 
London  turning  up  in  the  shape  of  a  smart  young 
draper,  she  changed  her  mind,  married  him  on  the 
instant,  and  went  away  to  London,  to  the  great  relief 
of  her  own  family,  and  the  scandal  of  the  priest 
aforesaid.  This  I  have  learned  since.  I  was  too 
young  to  know  much  about  it  at  the  time,  only  I 
well  remember  how  glad  we  were  to  see  her  go. 

It  was  now  drawing  toward  midsummer,  and  my 
health  being  fairly  settled  again,  I  was  sent  for  home. 
I  parted  with  my  kind  hostess  and  her  family  with 
real  regret,  which  I  fear  was  not  altogether  unselfish. 

*  It  was  formerly  a  custom  for  widows  who  did  not  desire  to 
marry  again  to  make  a  vow  to  that  effect,  at  which  time  they 
received  a  mantle  and  ring.  A  breach  of  this  vow  was  counted 
very  disgraceful. 


Another  Change.  37 

At  the  farm  I  was  quite  a  great  lady,  petted  and 
waited  OD,  and  treated  with  great  consideration.  At 
home  I  was  only  little  Loveday — a  child  of  the  family, 
taking  my  place  with  the  others,  having  my  daily 
tasks,  and  checked  and  reproved  if  I  did  them  amiss. 
I  began  to  be  sullen  and  discontented,  careless  about 
my  lessons  and  my  work,  and  pert  when  spoken  to. 
One  day  my  uncle  heard  me  give  my  Aunt  Joyce  a 
very  saucy  answer  (which  I  had  never  dared  to  do 
had  I  known  he  was  by).  He  ordered  me  at  once  to 
beg  her  pardon,  and  when  transported  with  passion  I 
refused,  he  punished  me  severely,  and  ordered  that  I 
should  be  kept  in  penitence  till  I  submitted.  I  dare 
say  I  should  have  done  the  same  thing  in  his  place, 
and  yet  I  do  not  think  it  was  the  best  way  in  my  own 
case.  I  had  enough  of  my  family  spirit  to  know  how 
to  cherish  a  grudge.  I  thought  my  aunt  was  wrong 
in  blaming  me  (as  indeed  she  was,  for  I  am  confident 
I  never  touched  the  glass  she  charged  me  with  break- 
ing) ;  my  Corbet  blood  was  roused,  and  I  would  not 
give  way.  I  had  my  meals  by  myself  for  several 
days,  and  was  not  spoken  to  by  any  of  the  family. 

There  was  one  person  in  the  house  who  thoroughly 
rejoiced  in  my  disgrace,  and  that  was  old  Madge. 
She  had  always  been  jealous  of  me,  being  one  of  those 
people  to  whom  it  seems  necessary  if  they  love  one 
person  or  thing,  to  hate  some  other  person  or  thing  in 
exact  proportion.  Madge  fancied,  I  believe,  that  my 
adoption  by  my  uncle  would  lessen  by  just  so  much 
the  portions  of  her  darlings,  Katherine  and  Avice. 
They  could  do  nothing  wrong  in  her  eyes.  We  were 
required  to  put  our  rooms  and  beds  to  rights.  Kath- 
erine was  apt  to  be  rather  careless,  more  so  than 


38  Loveday's  History. 

myself,  but  while  Madge  would  always  pick  up  and 
put  away  for  her,  she  took  care  that  any  little  slut- 
tishness  of  mine  should  be  sure  to  meet  my  aunt's  eye. 
Nay,  I  used  to  accuse  her  in  mine  own  mind  (and  I 
am  not  sure  now  that  I  was  wrong)  of  purposely  put- 
ting my  affairs  out  of  order  that  I  might  get  a  re- 
proof. However  that  might  be,  my  faults  lost  nothing 
in  her  hands.  Madge's  granddaughter  was  one  of  our 
maids,  and  a  spiteful  thing  she  was,  and  quite 
ready  to  follow  her  grandmother's  lead,  so  far  as  I 
was  concerned.  She  had  a  bachelor  who  was  a  jour- 
neyman of  my  Lord  Mayor,  and  they  were  to  be 
married  in  the  course  of  the  summer.  'Twas  a 
match  rather  above  her  degree,  but  Betty  was  a 
pretty  creature,  and  knew  how  to  ingratiate  herself 
well  enough.  My  aunt  had  promised  her  her  body 
and  house  linen,  and  also  her  wedding  gown. 

It  was  the  day  before  St.  John's  eve,  whereon  the 
marching  watch  was  to  be  set  forth  with  greater 
bravery  than  usual.  I  had  heard  a  great  deal  from 
my  cousins  about  this  splendid  show  on  St.  John's  eve. 
The  citizens  of  London  were  accustomed  to  set  tables 
before  their  doors  plentifully  laden  with  meats  and 
drinks,  whereof  all  passers-by  were  invited  to  par- 
take. The  houses  were  decorated  with  lamps  and 
cressets,  and  the  doors  shadowed  with  canopies  of 
sweet  herbs  and  all  sorts  of  flowers.  Every  body  was 
abroad  to  see  the  marching  watch  in  their  bright 
harness,  with  their  attendants  bearing  cressets  upon 
poles,  while  others  carried  oil  wherewith  to  feed 
them.  Then  there  were  pageants,  morris -dancers, 
and  musicians  without  end.  It  was,  indeed,  a  goodly 
and  gallant  show. 


Another  Change.  39 

Great  heaps  of  flowers  and  herbs  had  been  sent  in 
from  the  farm,  and  my  aunt  and  cousins,  with  the 
maids,  were  busy  weaving  garlands.  The  cook  and 
his  assistants  were  well-nigh  driven  frantic  by  the 
heat  and  their  cares,  while  Sambo  flitted  here  and 
there  like  a  magpie,  helping  every  one,  and  showing 
his  white  teeth  with  endless  grins  and  chuckles. 
Sambo  was  my  firm  friend  and  took  my  part  on  all 
occasions,  which  did  not  help  me  with  Dame  Madge. 
I  should  have  been  in  the  thickest  of  the  plot  at  any 
other  time,  and  my  assistance  was  not  to  be  despised, 
small  as  I  was,  but  no  one  asked  me  to  help,  and  I 
wandered  about,  feeling  very  forlorn  and  bitter,  in- 
deed, and  wishing  that  Mother  Benedict  would  come 
and  carry  me  away  to  the  convent. 

In  this  mood  I  went  out  to  the  garden,  where  my 
own  little  flower  plot  lay  looking  so  prim  and  pretty, 
and  where  I  had  spent  so  many  pleasant  hours  with 
my  cousins,  who  were  now  not  allowed  to  speak  with 
me,  though  they  often  gave  me  looks  of  compassion. 
Indeed,  Katherine  had  brought  herself  into  temporary 
disgrace  on  my  account,  by  telling  Betty  before  her 
grand  am,  that  she  was  a  spiteful,  tale-bearing  pyet, 
and  deserved  to  be  whipped  far  more  than  I  did.  I 
walked  about  the  garden,  feeling  miserable  enough, 
when  the  thought  struck  me  that  I  would  go  and  look 
at  my  uncle's  Indian  tree,  which  was  now  coming 
into  flower.  I  knew  that  two  buds  had  been  just 
ready  to  burst  the  night  before.  Lo  !  not  two  but 
three  or  four  flowers  were  fully  out.  I  know  not  how 
to  describe  them,  for  I  never  saw  any  like  them  be- 
fore or  since.  They  were  round  in  shape,  somewhat 
like  a  rose  but  more  regular,  with  thick,  wax-like 


40  Loveday^s  History. 

leaves,  and  some  yellow  in  the  center.  I  stood,  as  it 
were,  entranced  before  them,  and  at  last  I  stooped 
down  and  kissed  one  of  them,  but  without  doing  it 
any  harm. 

"  So,  Mistress  Loveday  !  "  said  Madge's  sharp  voice 
behind  me,  "  you  are  not  content  with  what  you 
have  done,  but  you  must  needs  break  and  spoil  your 
good  uncle's  flowers." 

I  turned  and  saw  Madge  and  Betty  regarding  me. 
I  vouchsafed  them  no  reply,  but  walked  away  to  my 
own  garden,  my  heart  swelling  almost  to  bursting 
with  anger,  grief,  and  wounded  pride.  Somehow  its 
neatness  and  brightness  seemed  to  mock  me,  and,  in  a 
fit  of  rage,  I  set  my  foot  on  a  beautiful  white  lily  and 
crushed  it  into  the  earth.  The  deed  was  no  sooner 
done  than  repented.  Bursting  into  tears,  I  raised  the 
poor  plant  from  the  ground.  Its  once  white  flower, 
all  broken  and  smirched  with  soil,  seemed  to  reproach 
me  with  my  cruelty.  It  was  ruined  beyond  hope.  I 
wept  over  it  till  I  could  weep  no  more,  and  then, 
mournfully  burying  it  out  of  sight,  I  returned  to  the 
house. 

That  evening,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  own  room, 
trying  to  divert  myself  a  little  with  my  work,  I  re- 
ceived a  summons  to  the  parlor.  There  sat  my  uncle, 
with  the  severest  face  I  had  ever  seen  him  wear.  In 
his  hands  he  held  one  of  the  flowers  of  the  India  tree, 
broken  and  soiled. 

"Loveday,  do  you  know  any  thing  of  this?"  said 
he,  sternly. 

I  felt  myself  change  color,  but  answered  firmly: 
"No,  uncle.  I  saw  four  flowers  on  the  tree  this 
morning,  but  I  have  not  seen  them  since." 


Another  Change.  41 

"That  is  not  true,"  said  he,  more  sternly  still. 
"  You  were  seen  to  pick  them,  to  crush  them,  and 
then  bury  them  in  the  ground  in  your  garden,  where 
this  one  was  found  just  now." 

"  I  did  not  do  any  such  thing  !  "  I  answered,  hotly 
enough.  "  I  did  kiss  one  of  them,  because  it  looked 
so  friendly  at  me,  but  I  did  not  hurt  it,  I  know." 

My  uncle  made  a  sign  to  Betty,  who  was  standing 
by.  To  my  utter  amazement,  she  declared  that  she 
and  her  grandmother  had  just  stopped  me  from  de- 
stroying the  flowers  in  the  morning,  and  that  watch- 
ing me  afterward,  from  the  chamber  window,  she 
had  seen  me  carry  something  to  my  garden  and 
stamp  it  into  the  earth.  She  had  not  thought  much 
about  it  till  she  heard  the  flowers  were  missing,  and 
then  looking  where  she  had  seen  me  at  work,  she 
found  one  of  the  flowers. 

What  could  I  say  ?  I  could  only  repeat  my  denial. 
I  had  never  hurt  the  flowers  nor  touched  them,  ex- 
cept that  I  had  kissed  one  of  them,  as  I  said. 

"  And  this  story  you  stand  to,  though  Betty  saw 
you  with  her  own  eyes  trying  to  spoil  the  flowers 
this  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  stand  to  it !  "  I  answered,  driven  to  des- 
peration by  the  plot  against  me,  and  what  seemed 
the  hopelessness  of  my  case.  "  Betty  is  a  liar  and  so 
is  Madge,  and  some  time  you  will  find  them  out." 

I  think  my  uncle  dared  not  trust  himself  to  punish 
me.  He  knew  the  infirmity  of  his  own  temper.  I 
can  feel  for  him,  since  I  have  the  same  temper  myself. 

"I  cannot  have  an  obstinate  liar  and  rebel  in  my 
family  !  "  said  he.  "  Unless  you  confess  and  humble 
yourself,  I  must  send  you  away." 


42  Loveday's  History. 

I  saw  my  aunt  whisper  something  in  his  ear,  but  he 
shook  his  head,  and  repeated  :  "  Unless  you  confess 
and  humble  yourself,  I  must  send  you  away  to  the 
convent ! " 

"  You  may  send  me  as  soon  as  you  please  !  "  I  re- 
torted, desperate  in  my  misery  and  hopelessness,  for  I 
could  see  no  way  out  of  my  trouble.  "  I  may  as  well 
be  in  one  place  as  another,  so  long  as  nobody  believes 
me,  or  cares  about  me.  I  wish  I  had  never  come 
here  ! " 

My  aunt  put  out  her  hand  between  me  and  my 
uncle,  as  he  started  from  his  seat  ;  but  there  was  no 
need,  for  whatever  his  impulse  was,  he  checked  himself 
in  a  moment. 

"  Take  this  wicked  child  away,  and  let  her  remain 
by  herself  till  she  shall  come  to  a  better  mind  !  " 
said  he.  "I  cannot  now  trust  myself  to  deal  with 
her." 

"  You  had  better  read  over  what  you  read  in  your 
great  book  the  other  day  about  charity  !  "  I  retorted, 
naughty  child  that  I  was.  "Any  how  the  Holy  Virgin 
and  the  Saints  know  that  1  never  touched  the  flower, 
and  they  know  who  did,  too."  I  saw  Betty  wince  at 
this.  "I  will  never  care  for  or  believe  in  that  book 
again,  for  it  makes  you  unkind  and  wicked." 

I  did  not  see  the  effect  of  my  bold  words,  for  my 
aunt  hurried  me  away.  She  took  me,  not  to  my  own 
bed-closet,  but  to  a  room  in  the  front  of  the  house, 
next  her  own,  which  we  children  always  called  the 
Apostles'  room,  because  it  had  figures  of  the  apostles 
wrought  on  the  hangings.  Here  she  left  me,  turning 
the  key  upon  me,  but  presently  came  back  with 
Sambo  carrying  a  truckle  bed,  and  whatever  I  needed 


Another  Change.  43 

for  the  night.  My  wild  anger  had  subsided  into  sul- 
len grief  by  that  time,  and  I  never  spoke. 

I  was  left  alone  till  supper-time,  when  Betty  came 
up,  bringing  me  a  basin  of  milk  and  a  slice  of  brown 
bread. 

"  Here  is  your  supper,  and  a  great  deal  better  than 
you  deserve  ! "  said  she,  in  her  provoking  taunting 
tone — old  fool  that  I  am,  the  very  remembrance  makes 
my  blood  boil.  "Here  is  a  fine  end  to  your  airs,  for- 
sooth ;  a  country  wench  to  be  set  up  for  a  lady  ! " 

The  words  were  not  out  of  her  mouth  before  she 
received  a  stinging  box  on  each  car  from  the  hands  of 
my  aunt,  who  had  followed  her  in  time  to  hear  her 
words. 

"  Take  that — and  that — for  thy  impudence.! "  said 
my  aunt,  repeating  the  application,  "  and  let  me  hear 
you  beg  my  niece's  pardon  directly  or  you  leave  the 
house  this  hour.  Country  wench,  indeed  ! "  and 
again  my  aunt's  hand  emphasized  her  remarks  on 
Betty's  cheek.* 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mistress  !  "  sobbed  Betty. 

"That  is  well.  But  why  are  you  here  at  all?  I 
bade  Sambo  bring  the  tray,  and  where  are  the  manch- 
eta  I  laid  upon  it." 

"  Guess  dat  Betty  eat  'em  herself  !  "  said  Sambo, 
who  stood  thoroughly  enjoying  Betty's  disgrace,  for 
they  were  old  enemies.  "I  just  went  out  to  bring 
Missy  Lovely" — that  was  his  version  of  my  name — "  a 
flower  from  her  own  bed,  and,  see  here,  missy,  what  I 
find."  As  he  spoke  he  held  up  a  pair  of  scissors 
which  we  both  knew  to  be  Betty's. 

*  Much  greater  ladies  than  Mrs.  Holland  beat  their  maids  till 
long  after  this  time.  See  Pepy's  diary. 


44  Loveday's  History. 

"  Where  did  you  find  these  ?  "  asked  my  aunt. 

"  Sticking  in  the  dirt  in  Missy  Lovely  garden,"  an- 
swered the  negro.  "  I  tell  you,  Missy  Holland,  dat 
gul  a  deep  one." 

"  Hush,  Sambo,  you  forget  yourself  ! "  said  my 
aunt,  smiling.  "  Go  down  and  ask  the  cook  for  one 
of  the  new  baked  saffron  cakes,  and  bring  it  up.  As 
for  you,  Betty,  I  shall  watch  you,  and  woe  be  to  you 
if  you  have  spoken  falsely,  or  if  I  hear  you  use 
another  impertinent  word.  Go,  now,  take  your  besom 
and  sweep  every  bit  of  dust  from  the  summer-house 
and  the  paved  walks.  Finish  the  work  before  you 
leave  it,  and  let  me  see  it  done  nicely,  or  I  will  lay  one 
of  the  besom  twigs  about  your  shoulders." 

I  don't  think  my  aunt  was  one  bit  sorry  to  have  a 
legitimate  cause  for  falling  upon  Betty.  When  we 
were  alone  together,  she  sat  down  in  a  great  chair, 
and  drawing  me  to  her,  spite  of  my  resistance,  she 
prayed  me  most  kindly  and  gently  to  tell  her  the 
whole  truth.  "  What  is  the  use,  aunt  ?  "  I  asked,  not 
so  much  sullenly  as  hopelessly.  "  I  have  told  the 
truth  already,  and  nobody  will  believe  me.  You 
credit  Betty,  though  you  know  she  tells  lies,  and  I 
have  never  told  a  lie  since  I  came  into  the  house.  And 
even  if  you  do,  my  uncle  will  not.  I  thought  he  was 
the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  now  I  never  can  think 
him  good  any  more  !  " 

"You  know,  Loveday,  no  one  would  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing  if  you  had  not  been  naughty  before  !  " 
said  my  aunt,  gently.  "  Have  I  not  always  been  good 
to  you?" 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Joyce." 

"  And  yet,  because  I  gave  you  a  just  reproof  for 


Another  Change.  45 

carelessness,  you  answered  me  pertly,  and  then  refused 
to  make  amends,  as  is  every  Christian  person's 
duty,  whether  they  be  young  or  old.  Was  that 
right?" 

"  I  suppose  not !  "  I  answered,  softening  a  little  ; 
"  but  indeed,  aunt,  I  am  sure  I  did  not  break  the  glass. 
I  never  touched  it,  and  was  quite  a  distance  away 
when  I  heard  it  crack." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  take  your  account  of  it ! "  said 
my  aunt,  after  a  little  consideration  ;  "  but  why  could 
you  not  have  said  so,  as  well  as  to  answer  me  so  pert^ 
ly?" 

"I  am  sorry  I  was  pert  !  "  I  answered,  softening  as 
soon  as  I  saw  that  my  aunt  was  disposed  to  do  me  jus- 
tice. "  I  beg  your  pardon.  But,  indeed,  indeed,  I  did 
not  break  the  Indian  tree." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it  ! "  said  my  aunt.  "  How  was 
it?" 

I  began  and  went  over  the  whole  story — how  badly 
I  had  felt  ;  how  I  went  to  see  the  Indian  tree,  and 
had  kissed  one  of  the  flowers,  because  I  fancied  that 
it  looked  kindly  at  me  ;  how  Madge  and  Betty  had 
accused  and  taunted  me  ;  and  how  in  my  rage  I  broke 
the  white  lily." 

"  But  that  was  very  foolish ! "  said  my  aunt. 
"  What  had  the  poor  lily  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  aunt  !  I  was  sorry  the  next  minute, 
and  I  buried  it  in  the  ground  that  I  might  not  see  the 
poor  thing  any  more." 

"  That  was  what  Betty  saw  you  doing  in  your  gar- 
den, then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  aunt  ;  I  suppose  so." 

My  aunt  mused  a  little,  holding  my  hand  in  hers 


46  Lov  eddy's  History. 

meantime.  Then  she  raised  her  head  and  said  de- 
cide.dly  : 

"  Loveday,  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  you  are 
telling  the  truth.  I  do  not  think  you  hurt  the  flower, 
unless  you  broke  it  by  accident,  as  you  say  you  kissed 
it.  Are  you  sure  you  did  not?" 

"  Yes,  aunt  ;  quite  sure.  Oh,  Aunt  Joyce,  do  be- 
lieve me.  I  can't  live  if  every  one  thinks  me  a  liar." 
And  then  I  began  to  cry  again.  My  aunt  hushed  me 
and  tried  to  make  me  eat,  but  that  I  could  not  do. 
She  then  undressed  me  and  put  me  to  bed  with  her 
blessing.  My  fierce  indignation  was  all  gone  by  that 
time,  and  I  began  to  hope  that  things  would  come 
right  after  all. 

I  don't  know  whether  or  not  my  aunt  imparted  to 
my  uncle  her  own  convictions  of  my  innocence,  but 
if  so,  she  did  not  succeed  in  convincing  him.  I  staid 
in  my  solitude  all  day,  but  I  was  allowed  my  em- 
broidery frame,  and  Sambo — with  my  aunt's  con- 
nivance, I  imagine — brought  his  talking  popinjay  to 
amuse  me.  It  was  a  very  pretty  and  entertaining 
bird,  and  I  beguiled  my  solitude  by  teaching  it  some 
new  words  and  phrases. 

Toward  night,  however,  the  scene  outside  became 
so  gay  and  animated  that  I  almost  forgot  my  griev- 
ances in  watching  it.  As  I  have  said,  my  uncle's 
house  was  built  with  the  upper  stories  overhanging, 
and  my  room  had  besides  a  projecting  window,  so  I 
could  see  up  and  down  the  street  for  a  long  way.  All 
the  houses  had  been  adorned  with  garlands  of  sweet 
herbs  and  flowers,  and  branches  of  lights  which  were 
now  being  kindled  and  made  a  fine  show.  Before 
every  house  of  any  consequence  was  set  a  table  with 


Another  Change.  47 

store  of  meat  and  drink,  which  was  free  to  all 
comers.  My  uncle's  great  chair  was  placed  on  the 
pavement,  and  Sambo  stood  behind  it  dressed  in  his 
gayest  suit.  The  maids,  all  in  their  best,  were  gathered 
at  an  upper  window  to  see  the  show,  and  Betty  had 
put  herself  particularly  forward. 

But  now  came  the  sound  of  music  and  the  tramp 
of  horses,  and  every  body  was  on  the  alert.  Presently 
I  saw  the  head  of  the  procession  coming  round  the 
corner.  First  came  sundry  pageants,  morris  dan- 
cers with  bells,  and  so  forth  ;  then  men  in  bright 
armor,  each  one  with  an  attendant  bearing  a  light 
upon  a  pole.  Then  came  the  Mayor  and  his  attend- 
ants, on  foot  and  on  horseback,  all  with  scarlet  jerkins 
trimmed  with  gold  lace,  and  posies  at  their  breasts. 
I  knew  one  of  the  footmen  was  Betty's  bachelor,  and 
had  seen  him  more  than  once.  As  he  came  abreast 
of  the  house,  he  looked  up,  and  there,  fastened  in  his 
jerkin,  were  the  missing  flowers. 

Somebody  else  had  seen  them  too.  As  the  man  saw 
his  mistress  looking  at  him  he  put  his  hand  to  his  cap 
to  salute  her,  and  in  so  doing  he  brushed  the  flowers 
from  his  breast.  Before  he  had  time  to  miss  them, 
Sambo  sprang  upon  them  like  a  black  cat  upon  a 
mouse,  put  them  in  his  bosom,  and  returned  to  his 
place,  before  any  one  but  myself,  and  I  think  Betty, 
saw  what  he  had  done.  She  uttered  some  sort  of  ex- 
clamation, and  retired  from  the  window,  and  though 
she  presently  returned,  I  don't  think  she  greatly  en- 
joyed the  rest  of  the  show,  gorgeous  as  it  was. 

The  procession  passed  with  all  its  lights  and  music, 
its  images  of  giants,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  show,  and 
disappeared  in  the  distance.  The  tables  were  carried 


48  Loveday's  History. 

in,  the  lights  extinguished,  and  I  went  to  bed,  feeling 
greatly  comforted  by  the  thought  that  ray  innocence 
was  like  to  be  established. 

The  next  morning  my  dinner  was  brought  me  as 
usual,  and  it  was  not  till  noon  that  my  aunt  came  and 
led  me  down  to  the  parlor.  There  sat  my  uncle  in 
his  great  chair,  the  withered  red  flowers  on  the  table 
before  him.  Teddy  Stillman,  Betty's  sweetheart — a 
decent  looking  whitesmith — stood  near,  twirling  his 
flat  cap  in  his  hands,  his  honest  face  cast  down  with 
a  look  of  grief  and  shame.  Sambo  stood  behind  his 
master's  chair,  like  a  statue  done  in  ebony,  and  Betty 
was  crying  in  a  corner.  My  uncle  held  out  his  hand 
to  me  and  bade  me  approach. 

"  Do  you  see  these  flowers,  niece  ?  " 

"  Yes,  uncle,'  I  answered. 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  were  found  ?  " 

"  Yes,  uncle."  And  being  further  questioned,  I  told 
him  what  I  had  seen  from  my  window  the  night  be- 
fore. The  laundry-woman  testified  to  seeing  red 
flowers  fall,  and  Sambo  pick  them  up,  but  she  had  not 
understood  the  matter.  She  thought  they  were  roses. 

"  It  skills  not  talking  further,  Master  Corbet,"  said 
the  whitesmith,  raising  his  eyes  and  speaking  in  a 
modest,  manly  sort  of  way.  "  It  is  true  that  I  had 
these  same  red  flowers  in  my  breast,  and  dropped 
them,  but  I  saw  not  the  blackamoor  pick  them  up." 

"But  how  came  you  by  them — that  is  the  ques- 
tion," said  my  uncle.  "There  is  not  their  like  in 
London,  as  I  well  know.  I  beg  of  you,  Stillman,  to  tell 
me  the  whole  truth,  and  you  will  see  my  reason  for  it 
when  I  tell  you  that  this  young  lady,  my  niece,  hath 
been  accused  of  wantonly  destroying  them,  on  the 


Another  Change.  49 

witness  of  Betty  Davis,  who  declares  that  she  saw 
Mistress  Loveday  Corbet  about  to  break  them  off  and 
stopped  her,  and  afterward  watched  her  bury  some- 
thing in  her  own  garden-bed,  where  she,  Betty,  pro- 
fessed to  find  one  of  the  flowers." 

"  I  only  said,"  Betty  began  ;  but  her  grandam 
stopped  her  with  a  clutch  at  her  arm  and  a  muttered 
"  Be  quiet,  wench  ;  you  will  but  make  matters 
worse." 

Teddy  Stillman  cast  upon  his  sweetheart  a  look  of 
grief,  which  must  have  touched  her  heart  if  she  had 
any,  and  then  turned  to  my  uncle. 

"  I  must  needs  speak,  since  it  is  to  clear  the  inno- 
cent," said  he.  "Betty  gave  me  these  flowers  yester- 
day with  her  own  hand,  at  the  back  gate,  when  I  came 
to  put  up  the  branches  for  the  lights.  She  said  the 
cat  had  broken  down  the  plant,  and  her  mistress  said 
she  might  have  them.  So  I  took  them,  thinking  no 
evil,  as  she  hath  often  given  me  flowers  and  posies  of 
rosemary  and  lavender,  which  she  said  her  mistress 
had  given  her. 

"  So  that  is  what  became  of  my  lavender  buds," 
said  my  aunt,  who  was  great  in  distilling  and  com- 
pounding of  herbs,  and  worshiped  her  lavender  beds 
as  if  they  had  been  the  shrines  of  saints. 

My  uncle  dismissed  Teddy,  with  thanks  and  com- 
mendation for  his  frankness,  but  I  noticed  he  did  not 
offer  him  any  money.  The  poor  lad  made  his 
obeisance,  and  passed  out  without  so  much  as  looking 
at  his  sweetheart.  Then  my  uncle,  in  presence  of  the 
whole  family,  declared  his  belief  in  my  entire  inno- 
cence of  what  had  been  charged  to  me,  and,  turning  to 
me,  he  asked  my  pardon,  saying  he  had  been  too 


50  Loveday^s  History. 

ready  to  condemn  me  on  the  evidence  of  one  who  had 
proved  herself  a  thief  and  a  liar.  This  concession  on 
my  uncle's  part  dissolved  in  a  moment  all  the  remains 
of  my  stubbornness. 

"  No,  no,  uncle  !  "  I  cried,  dropping  on  my  knees. 
"  It  was  I  that  was  wicked  and  obstinate,  and  I  am 
sorry  ;  and  I  begged  aunt's  pardon  before.  Please 
forgive  me,  uncle,  and  I  will  not  be  pert  any  more." 

"  We  will  both  forgive  and  forget,"  said  my  uncle, 
raising  and  kissing  me. 

"  You  have  need  to  thank  Sambo,  niece,  for  it  was 
his  sharp  sight  and  quick  hand  which  brought  to  light 
the  proofs  of  your  innocence.  Give  him  your  hand." 

I  did  so  willingly,  and  Sambo  kissed  it  with  many 
grins  and  giggles.  Then  the  servants  were  dismissed, 
and  presently  I  saw  Sambo  dancing  a  dance  of  triumph 
on  the  stones  of  the  garden  walk,  to  the  music  of  his 
own  singing  and  whistling.  The  twins  were  over- 
joyed, and  would  have  given  me  all  their  most  cher- 
ished possessions  to  celebrate  the  event.  My  uncle 
said  he  would  take  us  to  the  Tower  to  sec  the  lions, 
and  bade  us  get  ready.  I  escaped  for  a  little,  and 
shutting  myself  in  my  own  little  room,  I  said  a  prayer 
for  forgiveness  and  repeated  a  paternoster.  As  I  did 
so,  the  sense  of  the  words  came  to  me  as  never  be- 
fore, and  I  resolved  that  I  would  try  to  forgive  even 
Betty. 

We  went  to  the  Tower  and  saw  the  lions — two  very 
fine  fellows — a  leopard  and  some  other  wild  creatures, 
and  enjoyed  the  fearful  pleasure  of  feeding  the  great 
brown  bear  with  cakes.  On  the  way  home,  my  uncle 
took  us  to  see  some  of  the  goldsmiths'  and  other  fine 
shops,  and  bought  us  each  a  fairing.  At  one  place, 


Another  Change.  51 

a  silk  mercer's,  he  asked  the  elderly  man  in  attendance 
about  his  son. 

"He  hath  not  yet  returned,"  said  the  old  man, 
shaking  his  head  ;  "  a  dangerous  service,  Master  Cor- 
bet— a  dangerous  service  ;  but  we  must  not  withhold 
even  Isaac  when  the  Lord  calls  for  him." 

"Truly  not,  my  brother,"  answered  mine  uncle  ; 
"  b:it  I  hope  the  need  of  these  perilous  journeys  may 
soon  be  past.  I  heard  it  from  one  that  knows  what 
goes  on  at  Court,  that  his  Grace  is  like  to  be  moved 
of  his  royal  bounty  to  give  to  this  land  a  free  gospel 
before  long." 

The  old  man's  face  lighted  up:  "The  Lord  fulfill  it 
— the  Lord  fulfill  it,  Master  Corbet.  But  think  you  it 
is  true  ?  The  Chancellor  is  very  bitter  against  Master 
Tyndale?" 

"  The  Chancellor  is  like  to  need  his  breath  to  cool 
his  own  porridge,  if  all  tales  be  true,"  said  my  uncle ; 
"but  this  is  not  the  place,  nor  does  it  become  us  to  be 
talking  of  such  matters.  I  hope  your  son  may  soon 
return  in  safety." 

When  we  reached  home,  which  we  did  in  time  for 
supper,  Betty  was  missing.  Anne,  the  laundry  woman, 
slept  in  our  room  that  night.  The  next  day  we  heard 
that  Betty  had  been  sent  to  her  home  in  the  country, 
and  old  Madge  had  gone  with  her,  not  choosing  to 
stay  after  her  favorite  grandchild  was  disgraced.  I 
don't  think  my  aunt  was  very  sorry  to  have  the  old 
woman  go  of  her  own  accord,  though  she  would  never 
have  sent  her  away,  for  the  poor  thing  was  grown  so 
cankered  and  jealous  that  she  kept  the  house  in  hot 
water.  After  Betty's  departure,  some  of  the  other 
maids  were  very  forward  in  their  tales  of  her  dishon- 


52  Loveday's  History. 

est  practices  and  running  out  of  nights,  but  my  aunt 
treated  these  tales  with  very  little  ceremony,  saying 
that  the  time  to  have  told  them  was  not  behind 
Betty's  back,  but  when  she  was  there  to  speak  for 
herself.  I  hardly  ever  saw  any  one  with  such  a  strong 
sense  of  justice  as  Aunt  Joyce.  It  showed  itself  in 
all  she  did,  and  was  one  secret  of  her  success  in  gov- 
erning a  household. 

Things  hacl  now  returned  to  their  usual  course. 
I  went  about  my  lessons  and  my  play  with  the 
other  children,  and,  warned  by  what  had  happened, 
was  careful  to  give  no  just  cause  of  offense.  My 
uncle  was  kinder  to  me  than  ever,  but  there  was  a 
cloud  on  his  brow  and  a  look  of  sadness  on  his  face 
when  his  eyes  rested  on  me  that  I  could  not  under- 
stand, and  which  made  me  vaguely  uneasy.  Once  I 
heard  my  aunt  say  in  a  tone  of  deep  regret,  "Ah, 
nephew,  if  only  you  had  not  been  so  hasty  ; "  and 
my  uncle  muttered,  "  Mea  culpa,  mea  culpa,"  and 
hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

It  was  about  two  weeks  after  the  affair  of  the 
flowers  that  I  was  coming  in  from  the  garden,  when 
I  saw  some  one  that  I  knew  to  be  a  priest  by  his 
dress,  passing  into  mine  uncle's  private  room.  I  was 
not  greatly  surprised,  for  we  had  many  clerical  visitors, 
but  they  were  usually  secular  priests,  while  this 
man  was  a  regular.  I  went  up  to  my  room — we 
had  been  promoted  to  the  tapestry  room  since  Madge 
went  away,  and  felt  quite  grown  up  in  consequence — 
washed  my  hands,  and  put  on  a  clean  kerchief  and  pin- 
afore, those  I  wore  being  the  worse  for  my  labors  in 
the  garden.  As  I  was  finishing  my  dressing  opera- 
tions, my  aunt  entered  the  room,  and  I  saw  in  a  mo- 


Another  Change.  53 

ment  that  she  had  been  weeping.  All  of  a  sudden — 
I  don't  know  how — a  cold  weight  seemed  to  fall  on 
my  heart.  I  have  had  many  such  premonitions  of 
evil  in  my  day,  and  they  have  never  come  without 
cause. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  she,  and  then  she  fell  a- weep- 
ing as  if  her  heart  would  break,  for  a  minute  or  two, 
I  standing  by,  wondering  what  could  have  happened, 
and  feeling  sure  that  whatever  it  was,  it  concerned 
myself.  All  of  a  sudden,  a  notion  came  across  me, 
and  I  cried  out  in  anguish: 

"  Oh,  aunt,  have  they  come  to  take  me  away  to  the 
convent  ?  " 

"  It  is  even  so,  my  child,"  said  my  aunt,  command- 
ing herself  with  a  great  effort.  "  The  prioress  of  the 
convent  at  Dartford  hath  sent  for  you,  and  my 
nephew  hath  no  choice  but  to  let  you  go." 

If  a  tree  that  is  torn  up  by  the  roots  can  feel,  it 
must  feel  very  much  as  I  did  that  morning.  I  had 
taken  very  deep  root  in  my  new  home,  and,  except 
during  the  sad  time  when  I  was  in  trouble  about  the 
flowers,  I  had  been  very  happy.  I  had  come  to  love  my 
aunt  and  uncle  dearly,  and  the  twins  had  become,  as 
it  were,  a  part  of  my  very  heart.  I  loved  the  pleas- 
ant, easy  ways  of  my  uncle's  household,  where  each 
was  made  comfortable  according  to  his  degree;  where 
abundance  and  cheerful  hospitality  sat  at  the  board, 
and  peace  and  love  were  our  chamber-mates,  and 
watched  over  our  pillows.  My  uncle  was  hasty-tem- 
pered, it  was  true,  but  even  a  child  as  I  was  could  see 
what  a  watch  he  kept  over  himself  in  this  respect. 
But  alas,  and  woe  is  me.  Such  a  temper  is  like  a 
package  of  gunpowder.  The  fire  thereof  is  out  in  an 


54  Loveday's  History. 

instant,  but  in  that  instant  it  hath  done  damage  that 
can  never  be  repaired.  I  was  absolutely  stricken  dumb 
by  the  greatness  of  the  calamity  which  had  over- 
taken me,  and  could  not  speak  a  word.  I  think 
my  aunt  was  frightened  at  my  silence;  for  she  kissed 
and  tried  to  rouse  me.  At  last  I  faltered — 

"Must  I  go  to-day?" 

"  I  fear  so,  my  dear  lamb.  The  prioress  of  the 
convent  has  sent  for  you  by  the  hands  of  their 
priest,  and  as  two  ladies  are  to  travel  down  into  Kent 
with  him,  you  will  be  well  attended." 

With  that,  my  aunt  bestirred  herself,  and  called 
Anne,  the  laundry-woman,  to  help  in  getting  my 
clothes  together.  The  twins  had  come  in  by  that 
time  ;  they  had  been  away  to  visit  some  old  kinswoman 
of  their  mother's,  and  they  had  to  be  told  the  news. 
Both  Katherine  and  Avice  cried  bitterly,  but  I  could 
not  cry.  I  was  like  one  stunned. 

At  last,  at  my  uncle's  summons,  1  was  called  down 
to  the  parlor  to  speak  with  the  priest.  He  was  a  good- 
natured  looking,  easy-going  specimen  of  a  regular, 
and  greeted  me  kindly  enough,  bestowing  his  bless- 
ing as  I  kneeled  to  receive  it,  in  that  rapid,  mechanical 
fashion  I  so  well  remembered  in  Father  Barnaby  and 
Father  John. 

"And  so  you  are  coming  to  the  convent  to  be  a 
holy  sister,  as  my  good  Lady  Peckham  desires  !  " 
said  he.  Then  to  my  uncle:  "In  truth,  'tis  a  fair  of- 
fering, Master  Corbet.  I  almost  wonder  that  having 
such  a  jewel  in  your  hands  you  should  give  her  up 
— that  is,  if  she  be  as  towardly  as  she  is  fair  of 
face?" 

"Loveday  is  a  good   child  in    the    main,  though 


Another  Change.  55 

she  has  her  faults  and  follies  like  other  children  ! " 
replied  my  uncle. 

"  And  grown  folks,  too,  eh,  Master  Corbet  ?  "  said 
the  priest,  with  a  jolly  laugh.  "I  don't  know  that 
the  follies  of  youth  are  worse  than  the  follies  of  age, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  a  tenth  part  as  bad  !  "  said  mine 
uncle,  with  a  good  deal  of  bitterness.  "  *  There  is  no 
fool  like  an  old  fool,'  is  a  true  and  pithy  saying." 

"Even  over  true  !  "  returned  the  priest;  then  turn- 
ing  to  me:  "  Well,  daughter,  you  must  have  wondered 
that  you  were  left  so  long,  that  is  if  you  thought  of 
it  at  all.  The  truth  is,  Sister  Benedict,  who  had  the 
matter  in  charge,  died  soon  after  she  came  to  us,  and 
the  affair  was  quite  forgotten,  till  your  good  uncle's 
letter  reminding  the  prioress  of  her  duty  ;  she  looked 
over  some  papers  Sister  Benedict  had  left,  and  found 
my  Lady  Peckham's  letter." 

So  it  was  my  uncle's  doing.  I  remembered  all  at 
once  his  own  words  :  "  I  will  not  have  an  obstinate 
liar  in  my  family" — and  the  cloud  that  had  rested 
on  his  brow  ever  since.  He  had  done  the  deed  in 
one  of  his  hasty  fits  of  temper,  and  only  for  him,  the 
prioress  would  never  have  thought  of  sending  for  me. 

Folks  are  apt  to  talk  slightingly  of  the  sorrows  of 
childhood,  but  they  must  be  those  who  do  not  re- 
member tbeir  own.  When  a  cup  is  full,  it  is  full,  and 
that  whether  it  hold  a  gill  or  a  gallon.  I  had  been  un- 
happy enough  before  at  the  prospect  of  going  away, 
but  that  unhappiness  was  nothing  to  the  tide  of  wretch- 
edness, of  disappointed  love  and  impotent  anger  that 
swept  over  me.  I  think  my  first  clear  thought  was 
that  I  would  never  let  my  uncle  see  that  I  was  sorry 


56  Loveday^s  History. 

to  go  away.  So  when  the  priest  asked  me 
again  whether  I  would  like  to  go  to  the  convent  I 
courtesied  and  said,  in  a  voice  which  did  not  somehow 
seem  to  be  my  own: 

"  Yes,  reverend  father,  I  shall  like  it  very  much  ! " 

My  uncle  looked  at  me  with  a  face  of  grieved  sur- 
prise. 

"  Are  you  indeed  so  glad  to  leave  us,  niece  !  "  said 
he. 

"  I  am  glad  to  go  if  you  want  me  to  go,  uncle  !  "  I 
answered,  in  the  same  hard  voice.  "  I  don't  want  to 
stay  when  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,  only — "  and 
here  I  broke  down — "  only  I  wish  they  had  buried  me 
in  the  same  grave  with  my  father  and  mother,  and 
then  I  should  not  be  given  away  from  one  to  another, 
like  a  poor  fool  or  a  dog  that  is  in  every  one's 
way!" 

I  do  think  I  was  the  boldest,  naughtiest  child  that 
ever  lived,  or  I  should  not  have  dared  to  speak  so  to 
my  elders.  My  uncle  started  from  his  chair  as  if 
something  had  stung  him,  and  went  hastily  out  of  the 
room.  The  priest  looked  out  of  the  window.  My 
aunt  laid  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  with  that  soft  yet 
firm  touch  which  always  had  a  great  effect  in  calming 
my  tantrums,  as  old  Madge  used  to  call  them,  and 
whispered  me  to  recollect  myself  and  not  anger  my 
uncle.  Presently  Father  Austin  called  me  to  him, 
and  began  in  a  gentle,  fatherly  way,  to  tell  me  how 
pleasant  was  the  priory  at  Dartford,  what  a  nice  gar- 
den the  ladies  had,  and  what  fine  sweetmeats  they 
made — talking  as  one  like  himself  would  naturally 
talk  to  a  child.  He  was  ever  a  kind  soul,  and  glad  I 
am  that  I  have  had  it  in  my  power  to  succor  his  rev- 


Another  Change.  57 

erend  age.  But  that  is  going  a  very  long  way  before 
my  tale. 

"  I  trust  the  lady  prioress  will  be  kind  to  my 
niece,"  said  my  Aunt  Joyce. 

"  I  think  you  need  have  no  fear  on  that  score," 
answered  Father  Austin  ;  "  though  the  little  one  is 
not  like  to  have  much  to  do  with  her.  She  will  be 
under  the  care  of  the  mistress  of  the  novices,  an  ex- 
cellent woman,  though  I  say  it  that  should  not,  she 
being  mine  own  sister,  and  you  need  have  no  fears  for 
her  well  being." 

Sambo  now  announced  dinner,  and  my  aunt  led 
the  way  to  the  dining-room,  where  she  had  prepared 
quite  a  feast  to  do  honor  to  our  guest,  and  perhaps 
to  put  him  in  a  good  humor,  though  that  was  quite 
needless.  I  think  the  good  man  was  the  only  one  who 
enjoyed  the  collation,  though  my  undo  strove  to  eat 
out  of  courtesy,  and  my  aunt  heaped  my  plate  with 
delicacies  which  I  could  not  touch. 

"  And  now  we  must  be  stirring,  for  the  days  grow 
shorter  than  they  were,  and  I  would  fain  be  at  home 
before  dark,  though  we  travel  in  good  company," 
said  the  priest.  "  There  are  two  young  ladies  of  the 
family  of  Sir  James  Brandon  who  travel  down  with 
us,  and  the  knight  will  send  a  sufficient  escort  with 
them.  So,  if  it  please  you,  Mistress  Holland,  let  the 
child  be  made  ready  as  soon  as  may  be." 

"  Her  packing  is  all  done,  and  it  remains  but  to 
say  farewell,"  said  my  aunt.  "  My  nephew  hath  also 
provided  two  serving  men,  one  to  ride  before  Love- 
day,  and  the  other  to  drive  down  and  bring  back  the 
sumpter  mule." 

"  Sumpter  mule  !     What  is  that  about  a  sumpter 


58  Loveday^s  History. 

mule  ?  "  asked  Father  Austin.  "  Does  my  young  mis- 
tress need  a  sumpter  mule  to  carry  her  court  dresses  ? 
She  will  have  small  need  of  finery  where  she  is  going, 
Mistress  Holland." 

"  A  child  of  eight  years  has  small  need  of  finery 
any  where,  to  my  thinking,"  answered  Mistress  Hol- 
land. "  I  am  not  one  that  likes  to  see  a  young  maid 
dizzened  out.  But  my  brother  has  prepared  a  present 
for  the  ladies." 

"  But  a  web  or  two  of  Hollands  and  black  Cyprus 
lawn,  with  some  packets  of  spices,  sugar,  and  the 
like,"  said  my  uncle,  carelessly.  "  And  since  your 
reverence  is  pleased  to  like  the  white  wine,  I  have  or- 
dered a  case  to  be  put  up  for  your  own  drinking. 
'Tis  a  light  and  wholesome  beverage." 

"  Many  thanks — many  thanks  !  "  said  the  monk. 
"  Some  people  might  say  you  meant  to  secure  a  good 
reception  for  your  niece — but,  indeed,  you  need  not 
fear  for  her,"  he  added,  kindly.  "  The  house  at  Dart- 
ford  is  of  good  repute,  and  our  prioress  is  a  most  ex- 
cellent lady,  of  the  noble  family  of  Percy.  Most  of  our 
sisters  are  also  gentlewomen  of  good  family.  I  give 
you  my  word,  Master  Corbet,  that  Mistress  Loveday 
shall  have  every  care,  though  I  dare  not  promise  her 
such  feasts  and  luxuries  as  Mistress  Holland  provides." 

"Luxuries  are  of  little  account  to  children,  but 
kindness  is  every  thing,"  said  my  uncle. 

"  And  that,  I  promise  you,  she  shall  not  lack,"  an- 
swered the  priest,  seriously;  then,  turning  to  me  : 
"  Come,  daughter,  ask  your  uncle's  blessing,  and  take 
leave  of  your  cousins.  Some  day,  perhaps,  they  may 
come  and  see  you,  but  it  skills  not  lingering  when 
parting  must  come  at  last." 


Another  Change.  59 

Mechanically,  I  kneeled  to  my  uncle,  who  folded  me 
in  his  arms. 

"  The  blessing  and  prayers  of  an  unworthy  sinner 
go  with  thee,  my  poor  child  !  "  said  he.  "  Remem- 
ber, whatever  happens,  thou  wilt  ever  have  a  home 
and  a  portion  in  thy  uncle's  house." 

"  She  may  need  it  yet,  if  things  go  on  as  they  have 
begun,"  muttered  the  priest. 

My  cousins  kissed  me,  and  sobbed  out  their  fare- 
wells as  well  as  they  could  for  weeping.  I  went  out 
to  the  side  door,  where  the  priest's  sleek  mule,  and 
my  uncle's  two  men  were  waiting  with  their  animals. 
My  uncle  kissed  me  again  as  he  lifted  me  to  my  place 
behind  Jacob  Saunders,  and  whispered  : 

"  I  shall  come  to  see  thee  soon,  dear  child.  Try  to 
be  happy,  and  remember  my  house  and  heart  are  al- 
ways open  when  you  need  a  home." 

"  Why  did  you  send  me  away,  then  ?  "  I  said  bit- 
terly, more  to  myself  than  him.  He  heard  me  though, 
and  answered,  solemnly  : 

"  Because  I  was  a  hasty  fool,  child.*  Pray  for  your 
poor  uncle,  and  if  you  can,  for  your  own  sake,  for- 
give him." 

The  priest  now  mounted  his  mule,  and  exchanged 
a  courteous  farewell  with  my  uncle  and  aunt. 
The  beasts  were  put  in  motion,  we  turned  the 
corner,  and  in  a  moment  I  lost  sight  of  the  house 
where  I  had  been  so  happy  for  four  long  months.  It 
was  many  a  year  before  I  saw  it  again.  So  closed 
one  chapter  of  my  life.  It  always  did  seem  to  me 
that  I  left  my  childhood  behind  me  at  that  moment. 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  my  account  of 
of  my  days  in  London,  as  matters  have  so  greatly 


CO  Loveday^s  History. 

changed  since  that  time.  The  little  almshouses  where 
we  used  to  go  to  carry  milk  to  the  poor  bedesmen  and 
women  are  all  swept  away,  and  the  ground  mostly 
built  over.  What  became  of  the  old  people  I  know 
not,  but  Sir  Thomas  Audley  came  into  possession  of 
the  land,  which  he  afterward  gave  to  Maudlin  Col- 
lege at  Cambridge.  There  is  not  a  religious  founda- 
tion of  any  kind  left  in  London,  and  St.  Anthony  and 
his  pigs  are  equally  to  seek.  St.  Paul's  hath  been 
burned  to  the  ground — by  lightning,  as  was  believed  at 
the  time  and  long  after,  till  the  sexton  confessed  on 
his  death-bed  that  it  was  by  his  own  fault — and  is 
now  in  process  of  rebuilding.  The  city  of  London  is 
almost  twice  as  large  as  it  was  then  ;  many  places 
which  I  knew  as  open  fields  being  built  up,  and  whole 
streets  stretching  out  into  the  country.  America, 
which  at  that  time  was  not  known  to  many  people  at 
all — I  am  sure  I  never  heard  of  it  till  I  came  to  Lon- 
don— is  now  visited  by  English  ships  every  year,  and 
merchandise  brought  from  thence.  It  is  a  changed 
world,  and  on  the  whole  much  for  the  better,  what- 
ever old  folks  may  say. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A.   NEW   LIFE. 

|  HEN  we  reached  the  Strand,  we  found  the 
rest  of  our  escort  waiting  for  us  before  a 
handsome  house  which  I  had  often  seen  in 
my  walks.  There  were  two  or  three  stout  fellows 
well  armed,  and  a  sober,  somewhat  vinegar-faced 
man,  dressed  like  a  steward  or  something  of  that 
sort.  Two  other  men  led  palfreys  caparisoned  for 
women's  use.  As  we  drew  near  and  joined  the  group, 
the  door  opened  and  two  ladies  were  led  forth.  They 
were  closely  veiled,  yet  I  could  see  that  one  was 
young  and  handsome.  As  she  was  put  upon  her 
horse,  she  raised  her  veil  for  a  moment  and  looked 
about  with  a  wild,  despairing  glance,  like  that  of 
some  small,  helpless,  trapped  animal,  seeking  a  way  of 
escape.  In  a  moment  the  veil  was  dropped  again, 
the  other  lady  mounted  her  horse,  and  the  whole 
cavalcade  set  forward  as  briskly  as  the  state  of  the 
road  would  permit. 

The  fresh,  sharp,  autumn  air ;  the  quick  movement, 
and  the  change  of  scene,  roused  me  a  little  from  the 
heavy  stupor  of  grief  and  rage — I  know  not  what  else 
to  call  it — which  had  oppressed  me,  and  I  began  to  look 


62  Loveday^s  History. 

about  me.  Father  Austin  seemed  to  note  the  change, 
and  began  gently  to  point  out  different  objects  of 
interest.  He  showed  me  the  house  where  he  himself 
was  born  and  brought  up — a  comfortable  old  red 
brick  hall,  looking  like  the  very  home  of  peace  and 
plenty  in  its  ancient  elm  and  nut  trees,  and  began  to 
tell  me  little  tales  of  his  boyhood,  of  his  mother  and 
sisters  and  his  pet  rabbits.  At  first  I  was  conscious  of 
nothing  but  a  wish  to  be  let  alone,  but  almost  in- 
sensibly I  began  to  listen,  to  be  interested,  and  asked 
little  questions.  The  sharp,  heavy  distress  was  at  my 
heart  still, but  as  one  suffering  from  the  pain  of  a  wound 
is  yet  willing  to  be  a  little  diverted  from  his  misery, 
albeit  the  pain  is  not  lessened  thereby,  so  I  was  not 
sorry  to  listen  to  the  kind  father's  tale.  Presently  we 
passed  a  building  shut  in  by  high  walls,  like  a  convent, 
and  as  the  road  wound  close  by  the  gate,  we  could 
hear  within  sounds  of  somewhat  unbridled  mirth  and 
laughter. 

"What  house  is  that?"  asked  the  steward,  who 
rode  close  by  us. 

"It  was  the  house  of  Our  Lord  once,"  said  the 
father,  dryly.  "Now  it  belongs  to  Master  Crom- 
well." 

The  man  bit  his  lip  as  if  he  had  received  some  sort 
of  check,  and  fell  back  a  little.  The  house  was,  in 
fact,  one  of  the  many  small  convents  which  had  fallen 
during  the  past  few  years. 

We  stopped  at  a  way-side  inn  for  some  refresh- 
ment, and  one  of  the  men  brought  me  a  glass  of 
small  ale,  but  I  could  not  take  it,  and  begged  for  a 
drink  of  pure  water  instead.  My  head  ached,  and  I 
felt  parched  with  thirst.  The  priest  asked  the  buxom 


A  New  Life.  63 

hostess  who  brought  me  the  water,  if  there  were  any 
news. 

"  Nothing  your  reverence,  save  that  the  foxes  have 
caught  and  carried  off  two  or  three  lambs,  but 
'tis  thought  their  den  will  be  broken  up  before  long." 

I  saw  two  or  three  of  the  men  who  were  standing 
about  wink  at  each  other  as  if  there  were  some  jest 
concealed  under  the  woman's  words.  Father  Austin 
answered  her  gently  : 

"  There  are  many  sorts  of  foxes,  and  other  beasts 
also,  which  spoil  the  flocks,  and  the  worst  of  all  are 
wolves  which  come  in  sheep's  clothing  :  remember 
that,  my  daughter." 

Young  and  distraught  as  I  was,  I  could  not  but 
notice  the  difference  between  the  treatment  of  the 
priest  here,  and  that  which  he  would  have  received 
in  our  neighborhood  at  Peckham  Hall.  There, 
whenever  the  abbot  or  Father  Barnaby  rode  abroad, 
all  bowed  before  them,  as  if  they  had  been  the  pope 
himself,  and  even  our  own  old  fat,  sleepy  Sir  John, 
was  greeted  with  bared  heads  ;  but  here,  such  as  we 
met  contented  themselves  with  a  careless  lifting  of  hat 
or  cap  for  a  moment,  and  many  gave  Father  Austin 
no  greeting  at  all.  Others  on  the  contrary  were  very 
forward  in  craving  his  blessing,  even  kissing  the  hem 
of  his  robe  or  the  furniture  of  his  mule. 

The  two  ladies  rode  along  close  together,  but  never, 
that  I  could  see,  exchanging  a  word.  However,  the 
elder  did  speak  to  the  younger  once  or  twice,  but  she 
got  no  answer  save  an  impatient  shake  of  the 
head.  It  was  now  drawing  toward  evening,  and  I 
well  remember  how  the  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
shone  through  the  orchards,  making  the  ripening 


64  Loveday's  History. 

apples  glow  like  balls  of  gold  and  fire  among  the 
dusky  leaves.  The  sight  recalled  so  clearly  to  iny 
mind  the  orchards  of  my  native  West  Country, 
that  when  we  ascended  a  little  rising  ground, 
and  the  priest  remarked  that  we  should  soon 
see  home,  I  looked  out,  expecting  for  a  moment  to 
behold  the  gray  battlements  of  Peckham  Hall.  But 
no  doubt  my  head  was  bewildered  even  then  by  the 
fever  which  was  stealing  over  me. 

"  There,  daughters,  that  is  your  future  home,"  said 
Father  Austin,  pointing  downward,  when  we  had  at- 
tained the  top  of  the  little  eminence. 

The  younger  lady  uttered  an  exclamation  of  some 
sort,  and  turned  her  horse  as  though  she  would  have 
fled,  but  her  sister  and  the  steward  both  at  once  laid 
their  hands  upon  her  bridle  rein,  and  she  made  no 
further  move.  I  roused  myself  from  the  sort  of 
stupor  that  was  bewildering  me,  and  looked.  I  saw  a 
large  garden  and  orchard,  surrounded  by  a  high  stone 
wall,  having  an  embattled  gateway.  In  the  midst  was 
a  pile  of  old  red  brick  buildings  and  a  church.  The 
little  river  Darent  ran  close  by,  and  a  stream  seemed 
to  be  diverted  from  it  to  water  the  convent  grounds. 
I  could  see  the  water  sparkling  in  the  sun.  It  was,  I 
suppose,  the  hour  of  recreation  ;  for  various  black- 
veiled  and  white-veiled  figures  were  walking  in  the 
orchard  and  garden,  while  even  at  this  distance  the 
fitful  sound  of  music  reached  our  ears.  It  was 
indeed  a  sweet  and  peaceful  scene. 

"  That  is  Sister  Cecilia  practicing  in  the  church  ! 
We  have  the  best  pair  of  organs  in  all  the  country," 
said  Father  Austin,  with  simple  pride;  "there  is 
nothing  like  them  in  all  London." 


A  New  Life.  65 

"We  now  put  our  horses  to  a  brisk  pace,  and  passing 
through  the  gateway  I  have  spoken  of,  we  entered  a 
sort  of  paved  outer  court,  where  the  men  dismounted, 
and  we  women  folk  were  also  taken  from  our 
horses.  We  were  led  through  an  inner  gate  which 
opened  upon  a  long  paved  walk  leading  up  through 
the  orchard  and  garden  to  the  house.  I  was  growing 
more  and  more  confused  ;  but  I  remember  well  all  the 
sisters  pausing  to  look  at  us,  as  was  but  natural,  poor 
things,  and  my  feeling  an  unreasoning  anger  against 
them  for  so  doing.  I  have  also  a  vivid  impression  of 
some  bright  flowers  growing  by  the  path.  Two  or 
three  of  the  dark-robed  group  now  came  forward  to 
meet  us. 

"  Here  are  our  new  daughters,"  said  the  priest,  "  and 
tired  enough  they  are,  poor  things.  I  fear  the  child  is 
not  well." 

"  Holy  Virgin  !  I  trust  she  hath  not  brought  the 
sickness  among  us,"  said  one  of  the  number,  shrinking 
back. 

"  I  dare  say  she  is  only  weary  with  her  journey," 

said  a  kind  voice,  and  one  of  the  ladies  took  my  hand 

.  to  lead  me  into  the  house.      "  Come  with  me,  my 

child,  and  we  will  find  some  supper  and  a  bed  for 

these  tired  little  bones." 

I  am  conscious  of  hearing  the  words,  but  they 
sounded  far  and  strange,  as  talk  does  in  the  very 
early  morning,  when  one  is  half -asleep.  I  heard  also 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  pity,  and  then  my 
senses  failed  me.  The  next  I  knew  I  found  myself 
being  undressed  and  put  into  bed,  while  my  teeth  chat- 
tered and  every  limb  was  shaking  under  the  influence 
of  a  strong  ague. 


66  Lovedatj^s  History. 

From  that  time,  for  several  weeks,  my  recollections 
are  mostly  a  blank.  I  remember  begging  for  water, 
water,  and  loathing  the  apple-tea  and  gruel  they 
brought  me  instead.  I  remember  seeing  people  about 
me  and  hearing  voices,  but  it  is  all  dim  and  dream- 
like. At  last,  one  day,  I  woke  and  saw  Father  Austin 
standing  by  my  bed,  with  a  lady  so  exactly  like  him, 
that  if  they  had  changed  clothes  no  one  would  have 
known  which  was  which. 

"  "Water  ! "  I  gasped.  It  was  always  my  first 
word  on  waking. 

"  Do  you  think  I  might  give  her  a  little  ?  "  asked 
the  lady.  "  She  does  crave  it  so,  poor  little  thing." 

"  Yes,  give  her  what  she  wants  ;  it  will  make  no 
difference,"  said  the  priest,  sadly.  He  went  away,  and 
the  lady  brought  me  a  small  cup  of  cool,  fresh  water. 
I  drained  every  drop  and  begged  for  more. 

"You  shall  have  more  by  and  by,  if  this  does  not 
hurt  you,"  said  the  lady.  "  Be  a  good  child." 

I  dropped  again  into  a  doze.  When  I  waked  I  was 
alone,  and  the  jug,  from  which  my  nurse  had  poured 
the  water,  stood  on  a  little  table  near  by.  An  over- 
mastering desire  took  possession  of  me.  I  crept  out 
of  bed,  and,  steadying  myself  by  the  wall,  I  reached 
the  jug,  and  though  I  could  hardly  lift  it  so  as  to  get 
at  its  contents,  I  drained  every  drop.  There  must 
have  boen  nearly  a  quart.  Then  getting  back  into 
bed,  I  fell  asleep  and  slept  soundly.  I  woke  from  a 
dream  of  my  home  before  I  went  to  Pcckham  Hall, 
and  found  that  it  was  dark  and  the  lady  I  had  seen 
before  was  standing  by  me  with  a  light  in  her  hand. 
She  bent  down  and  put  her  hand  on  my  forehead. 

"  The  saints  be  praised,  here  is  a  blessed  change," 


A  New  Life.  67 

said  she.  "  The  fever  is  wholly  gone,  and  your  skin 
is  cool  and  moist.  Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 

I  made  a  motion  of  assent.  Now  that  the  fever 
had  left  me,  I  was  as  weak  as  an  infant. 

"  Well,  well.  Perhaps  the  water  did  you  good, 
after  all.  Do  you  want  more  ?  " 

I  nodded.  She  took  up  the  jug,  and  seemed  sur- 
prised to  find  it  empty,  but  asked  no  questions,  and 
gave  it  to  an  attendant  outside,  who  presently  re- 
turned, and  I  had  another  delightful  drink,  but  I 
was  not  so  thirsty  as  before. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  eat  something,  my 
child  ?"  asked  my  new  friend. 

I  assented  eagerly,  for  I  had  begun  to  feel  de- 
cidedly hungry.  She  again  gave  some  orders  to  the 
person  outside,  who,  by  and  by,  brought  I  know  not 
what  delicate  preparation  of  milk.  I  took  all  that  was 
given  me,  and  would  gladly  have  had  more. 

From  that  hour  ray  recovery  was  rapid,  and  I  was 
soon  able  to  walk  about  the  room,  which  was  a  large 
one  with  several  beds,  and  was,  indeed,  the  infirmary 
for  the  pupils.  Then  I  was  allowed  to  walk  in  the 
gallery,  and  so,  by  degrees,  I  took  my  place  in  the 
family,  and  began  to  understand  somewhat  of  its 
constitution  and  politics. 

Dartford  nunnery  was  a  place  of  no  little  conse- 
quence in  my  time,  having  some  twenty  professed 
nuns  besides  the  prioress  and  other  needful  officers, 
such  as  sacristan,  mother  assistant  and  mistress  of 
novices.  It  was  a  wealthy  foundation,  owning,  besides 
its  fair  home  domain,  other  wide  fields  and  orchards 
which  brought  in  a  good  revenue.  Most,  if  not  all 
of  the  sisters  were  ladies  of  family  and  breeding. 


63  Loveday^s  History. 

The  house  had  a  good  reputation  for  sanctity,  and 
certainly  there  were  no  scandals  in  my  time,  or  at 
least  so  I  think,  and  I  was  always  sufficiently  sharp- 
sighted. 

When  I  was  able  to  walk  about  and  see  my  new 
home,  which  was  not  till  cold  weather,  I  had  to  con- 
fess that  it  was  a  fair  one.  The  garden  was  very 
large  and  contained  many  fine  fruit  trees,  apples, 
plums,  and  cherries,  besides  great  grape  vines  and 
apricots,  trained  in  curious  fashion  against  the  south 
wall.  The  house  had  been  founded  in  1371,  and  it 
was  said,  though  I  doubt  it,  that  a  part  of  the  first 
fabric  was  still  standing  in  my  time.  Any  how  some 
of  the  building  was  very  old,  and  it  had  been  added 
to  as  convenience  dictated,  till  there  was  no  regular- 
ity to  it ;  yet  the  material  being  the  same  throughout, 
and  the  walls  much  overgrown  with  ivy,  there  sub- 
sisted a  certain  harmony  in  the  parts  which  was 
pleasing  to  the  eye.  The  church  was  a  fine  one  and 
contained  some  valuable  relics,  such  as  Mary  Magda- 
lene's girdle — she  must  have  had  a  good  many  girdles 
in  her  time — a  bottle  containing  some  smoke  from  the 
Virgin's  fire,  and  a  glass  of  St.  Anne's  tears,*  with 
others  which  I  don't  now  remember,  all  inclosed  in  rich 
reliquiaries  and  boxes,  or  highly  ornamented  shrines. 
They  were  exposed  in  the  church  on  feast  days  for  the 
adoration  of  the  faithful. 

But  the  faithful  were  not  so  much  disposed  to  adore 
as  in  times  past.  The  leaven  of  incredulity  was 
spreading  among  the  poor,  and  the  new  Learning,  as  it 

*  All  these  relics  are  authentic,  and  may  be  found  in  Leigh- 
ton's  list  contained  in  his  letters, 


A  New  Life.  69 

was  called,  among  the  rich.  It  was  understood  that 
the  king  himself  had  his  doubts  about  such  matters  ; 
he  was  at  drawn  daggers  with  the  pope  about  his 
divorce  ;  the  great  cardinal  was  in  disgrace  and  likely 
to  lose  all  his  preferments,  and  nobody  knew  what 
was  likely  to  come  next. 

But  we  young  ones,  shut  in  by  the  gray  stone  walls, 
were  happily  unconscious  of  the  storms  that  raged 
without.  Children  are  easily  reconciled  to  any  change 
that  is  not  greatly  for  the  worse,  and  I  soon  became 
as  much  at  home  as  if  I  had  always  lived  here.  I 
must  needs  say  that  every  one  was  kind  to  me,  espe- 
cially so  when  I  was  recovering.  I  used  to  have  terri- 
ble fits  of  homesickness,  which  were  not  lessened  by 
the  anger  which  still  dwelt  in  my  heart  against  my 
uncle.  These  usually  ended  in  a  fit  of  crying  and 
that  in  a  chill,  so  it  is  no  wonder  that  Mother  Joanna 
(that  was  the  name  of  the  Mistress  of  the  Novices) 
had  a  dread  of  them.  So,  at  the  last,  she  took  to  set- 
ting me  tasks  and  work,  and  finding  that  I  had  a  talent 
for  music,  she  put  Sister  Cicely  upon  giving  me  lessons 
upon  the  lute  and  in  singing,  which  lessons  have  since 
been  of  great  use  to  me. 

At  my  first  recovery  from  my  sickness,  as  I  have  said, 
my  mind  was  almost  a  blank;  but  by  and  by  my  mem- 
ory came  back  and  I  began  to  recollect  and  compare 
things,  and  to  ask  questions.  Mother  Joanna  liked 
me  about  her  when  she  was  busy.  Her  eyesight  was 
not  as  good  as  it  had  been,  and  she  found  it  conven- 
ient to  have  me  thread  her  needles  when  she  was  sew- 
ing, and  do  other  little  offices  for  her.  One  day  she  was 
preparing  some  work  for  the  children  (for  we  had  a  day- 
school  in  a  little  house  near  the  gate,  where  the  girls 


70  Loveday^s  History. 

from  the  village  learned  to  sew  and  spin  and  to  say 
their  prayers) ;  one  day,  I  say,  when  we  were  thus  en- 
gaged, I  ventured  to  ask  : 

"  Dear  mother,  did  my  uncle  come  to  see  me  when 
I  was  sick  ?  " 

"  No,  child,  your  uncle  is  gone  abroad,  as  I  under- 
stand, to  Holland,  about  some  matters  of  business — but 
your  aunt  sent  to  inquire  for  you  twice." 

"  Who  came  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"How  do  I  know,  child!  You  ask  too  many  questions. 
It  was  an  elderly  serving-man  with  a  scar  on  his  face." 

"  Joseph  Saunders,"  I  said.  "  Do  you  know  if  my 
aunt  and  cousins  were  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  are  all  well.  I  asked  because  I  thought 
you  would  like  to  know." 

"  Dear  mother,  you  are  very  kind." 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  be  kind,  and  so  I  am  going  to  talk 
plainly  to  you,  child.  You  must  give  up  all  notion, 
of  going  back  to  your  uncle's  house,  for  that  will 
never  be.  My  Lady  Peckham  has  given  you  to  this 
house — she  having  absolute  control  of  you  since  Sir 
Edward's  death — " 

"  Is  Sir  Edward  dead  ?  "     I  asked,  in  dismay. 

"Yes,  he  died  in  Scotland.  There,  don't  cry,  my 
dear  ;  I  thought  you  knew  it,  or  I  would  not  have  told 
you  so  suddenly.  I  know  it  is  natural  for  you  to 
grieve  for  him,  but  we  must  curb  even  natural  affec- 
tions when  they  stand  in  the  way  of  our  duty." 

But  I  could  not  help  crying.  Sir  Edward  had  been 
uniformly  kind  to  me,  and  I  loved  him  dearly.  The 
news  of  his  death  was  a  dreadful  shock,  and  the  end 
of  it  was  that  I  had  another  ague  and  was  sick  for  sev- 
eral days.  When  I  got  able  to  be  about  again,  I  was 


A  New  Life.  71 

sent  for  to  the  prioress's  parlor.  I  had  hitherto  seen 
this  lady,  only  at  an  awful  distance,  and,  so  far  as  I 
know,  she  had  never  spoken  to  me.  She  was  a  very 
great  lady  being  some  way,  I  know  not  how,  akin  to 
Bishop  Gardner. 

By  the  rule  of  our  constitution  we  were  to  elect  a 
prioress  every  three  years,  but  there  was  nothing  to 
hinder  the  same  person  from  being  elected  again 
and  again,  and  Mother  Paulina  was  such  a  Queen 
Log  that  I  imagine  nobody  cared  to  get  rid  of  her. 
She  was  an  indolent,  easy-going  body,  caring,  I  do 
think,  more  for  her  own  ease  and  comfort  than  any 
thing  else,  and  very  little  troubled  as  to  how  matters 
went  in  the  house,  so  long  as  they  did  not  come  in  her 
way.  Like  many  such  persons,  however,  she  now  and 
then  took  a  fit  of  activity  and  authority,  when  she 
would  go  about  the  house  interfering  in  every  body's 
business  whether  she  knew  any  thing  about  the  mat- 
ter in  hand  or  not,  giving  contradictory  orders  and 
setting  things  generally  at  sixes  and  sevens.  This 
happily  accomplished,  and  her  conscience  discharged, 
she  would  relapse  into  her  great  chair  and  her  indolence 
again,  and  leave  matters  to  settle  as  they  might. 
One  of  these  fits  was  on  her  just  now.  She  had  been 
out  in  the  garden  in  the  morning,  scolding  the  gar- 
dener about  the  management  of  the  winter  celery  and 
the  training  of  the  apricots,  of  which  she  knew  as 
much  as  she  did  of  Hebrew.  I  saw  her  two  attend- 
ant sisters  fairly  laughing  behind  her  back.  As  for 
the  gardener,  he  was  a  sober  old  Scotsman,  who  had 
come  to  this  country  in  the  train  of  some  of  the  ban- 
ished Scots  lords,  and  liked  it  too  well  to  leave  it.  He 
understood  his  business,  and  his  mistress,  too.  He 


72  Loveday^s  History. 

would  stand,  cap  in  hand,  in  an  attitude  of  the  deep- 
est humility,  listening  to  his  lady's  lectures  and  throw- 
ing in  a  word  now  and  then,  as — "Na  doot,  madam  ! 
Ye'll  hae  the  right  o't.  I  would  say  so  !  "  Then  he 
would  go  on  his  own  course,  precisely  as  if  she  had  not 
spoken,  and  she,  having  said  her  say  without  contra- 
diction, would  imagine  she  had  had  her  own  way.  (It 
is  not  a  bad  way  to  deal  with  unreasonable  people,  as 
I  have  learned  by  experience.) 

I  found  the  lady  sitting  in  her  great  chair,  beside  a 
table  on  which  was  a  crucifix  of  gold  and  ivory,  a  vase 
for  holy  water,  and  a  box  which  I  supposed  to  contain 
some  holy  relic.  A  handsome  rug  was  before  her 
chair,  and  she  rested  her  feet  on  an  embroidered 
hassock.  According  to  the  custom  of  the  house, 
two  sisters  stood  behind  her.  The  younger  sisters 
took  this  duty  in  rotation. 

"  So  !  "  said  she,  when  I  had  made  my  obeisance, 
"  you  are  the  child  who  was  sent  hither  by  my  Lady 
Peckharn." 

This  in  a  severe  tone,  as  if  I  had  been  much  to 
blame  for  being  such  a  child. 

"  And  why  did  not  you  come  hither  at  once, 
instead  of  stopping  four  months  in  London,  and 
putting  me  to  all  that  trouble  of  looking  over  poor 
Sister  Benedict's  things,  and  finding  my  lady's 
letter." 

To  which  I  could  only  answer  that  I  did  not  know. 
As  if  a  little  chit  like  myself  would  have  any  hand  in 
her  own  disposal. 

"  Well,  now  you  are  here,  you  must  be  content. 
Mother  Joanna  says  you  are  homesick  and  make  your- 
self ill  by  crying.  That  must  be  stopped.  If  I  hear 


A  New  Life.  73 

any  more  of  it,  I  will  try  what  virtue  is  in  a  birch 
twig  to  cure  ague.  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  naughty 
child,  or  your  uncle  would  not  have  been  in  such  a 
hurry  to  get  rid  of  you." 

How  easy  it  is  for  idle  or  careless  hands  to  gall  a 
sore  wound.  Her  words  were  like  a  stab  to  me,  but  I 
set  my  teeth  and  clenched  my  hands  and  made  no  sign. 

"  But  now  you  must  understand,  once  for  all,  that  I 
will  have  no  more  crying  or  homesickness  !  "  pursued 
the  lady,  who  was  like  a  stone  that  once  set  a-going 
down  hill  rolls  on  by  its  own  weight. 

"  You  are  in  a  good  home  and  a  holy  house,  where 
you  may  grow  up  without  danger  of  being  infected 
by  the  heresies,  which,  as  we  hear,  are  so  rife  in  Lon- 
don. Your  good  mistress,  Lady  Peckham,  will  give 
you  a  dowry  when  you  are  professed,  and  some  time 
you  may  come  to  be  prioress,  and  sit  in  this  chair  ; 
who  knows?"  concluded  the  lady,  relapsing  into  an 
easy  talking  tone,  having,  I  suppose,  sustained  her 
dignity  as  long  as  was  convenient.  "  So  now  be  a 
good  child,  and  here  is  a  piece  of  candied  angelica  for 
you  ! "  she  added,  taking  the  cover  from  what  I  had 
taken  for  a  reliquary,  "  and  pray  don't  let  us  have 
any  more  crying." 

I  took  the  sweetmeat  with  a  courtesy,  and  after- 
ward gave  it  to  one  of  the  lay  sisters,  having  no  great 
fondness  for  such  things. 

"And  how  did  you  leave  my  Lady  Peckham?" 
pursued  the  prioress  ;  then,  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer :  "  We  were  girls  at  school  together,  though  she 
was  older  than  I — oh,  yes,  quite  a  good  deal  older,  I 
should  say.  Let  me  see,  she  married  twice,  I  think. 
What  was  her  first  husband's  name  ?  " 


74  Loveday^s  History. 

"  Walter  Corbet,  madam  ?  "  I  managed  to  say.  I 
was  feeling  very  queer  by  that  time,  being  weak  and 
unused  to  standing  so  long.  The  prioress  was  pur- 
suing her  catechism,  when  I  saw  the  two  attendant 
sisters  look  at  each  other,  and  then  one  of  them  bent 
down  as  if  to  whisper  in  the  lady's  ear.  That  was 
the  last  I  did  see  or  know  till  I  woke,  as  it  were,  to 
find  myself  on  the  floor,  with  one  of  the  sisters  bath- 
ing my  face  with  some  strong  waters,  and  the  prior- 
ess fussing  about,  wringing  her  hands  and  calling  on 
all  the  saints  in  the  calendar.  I  felt  \\ery  dreamy  and 
strange,  and,  I  fancy,  lost  myself  again,  for  the  next 
thing  I  heard  was  Mother  Joanna's  voice,  speaking  in 
the  tone  which  showed  she  was  displeased. 

"  You  kept  her  standing  too  long,  that  is  all.  No- 
body recovering  from  a  fever  should  be  kept  stand- 

;ng." 

"  You  don't  think  she  will  die,  do  you,  mother  ?  " 
asked  one  of  the  sisters,  I  do  believe  out  of  sheer  mis- 
chief. 

"  Holy  Virgin !  you  don't  think  so  ?  "  cried  the  prior- 
ess. "  Holy  Saint  Joseph  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  Send 
for  Father  Austin,  somebody,  quick!  Bring  her  the 
holy  Magdalene's  girdle,  or  the  thumb  of  Saint  Bar- 
tholomew. Holy  Magdalene  !  I  will  vow 

"  Reverend  mother,  please  do  be  quiet ! "  inter- 
posed Mother  Joanna,  with  very  little  ceremony. 
"  The  child  is  not  dying,  if  she  be  not  scared  to 
death  by  all  this  noise.  Sister  Priscilla,  go  and  see 
that  her  bed  is  ready.  Come,  Loveday,"  in  her  crisp, 
kindly  tone,  "rouse  yourself,  child.  Why,  that  is 
well  ! "  as  I  opened  my  eyes — "  there,  don't  try  to 
sit  up,  but  take  what  the  sister  is  giving  you,  and  we 


A  New  Life.  75 

will  soon  have  you  better.  Open  the  casement  a 
moment,  Sister  Anne  ;  the  room  is  stifling." 

"  Really,  sister  ! "  said  the  prioress,  in  an  injured 
tone,  "  I  think  you  should  remember  that  you  are  in 
my  apartment,  before  you  take  such  a  liberty.  The 
child  will  do  well  enough,  I  dare  say.  It  is  more  than 
half  pretense  to  get  herself  noticed,  and  I  believe 
might  be  whipped  out  of  her,  "  she  pursued,  for  hav- 
ing a  little  gotten  over  her  fright,  she  was  beginning 
to  be  angry  with  the  cause  of  it.  Mother  Joanna 
treated  the  reproof  and  the  suggestion  with  equally 
little  ceremony,  and  gathering  me  up  in  her  strong 
arms,  she  bore  me  off  to  my  bed  in  the  dormitory,  and 
went  to  bring  me  some  soup.  I  was  quite  myself  in  a 
few  hours,  and  from  that  time  my  health  improved  so 
that  I  was  soon  as  well  as  I  had  ever  been  in  my  life. 
Every  one  was  kind  to  me,  as  I  have  said.  I  went  to 
work  with  great  zeal  at  my  lessons  in  music  and  needle- 
work, both  of  which  I  loved.  One  day  I  was  hold- 
ing some  silk  for  Sister  Denys.  She  was  the  novice 
who  had  entered  the  house  at  the  same  time  as  my- 
self, and  had  taken  the  white  veil  while  I  was  ill. 
She  was  very  young,  and,  but  for  her  unvarying  ex- 
pression of  listless  sadness,  would  have  been  very 
pretty  ;  but  she  moved  more  like  a  machine,  than  a 
living  creature,  never  spoke  if  she  could  help  it,  and 
faded  day  by  day,  like  a  waning  moon.  I  more  than 
once  saw  Mother  Joanna  shake  her  head  sadly  as  she 
looked  at  the  poor  thing. 

Well,  as  I  said,  I  was  holding  some  thread  for  her, 
when  somehow,  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  I 
made  use  of  a  Latin  phrase.  I  saw  that  she  started, 
and  her  eyes  brightened. 


76  Loveday^s  History. 

"  Do  you  know  Latin,  child — I  mean,  so  as  to  un- 
derstand it  ?  " 

I  was  as  much  surprised  as  if  the  image  of  Mary 
Magdalene  in  the  chapel  had  spoken  to  me,  but  I 
made  haste  to  answer — 

"  Yes,  Sister  Denys  ;  I  have  learned  it  for  two  or 
three  years.  And  I  have  read  through  the  *  Orbis 
Sensualium  Pictus,'  *  and  some  of  Cornelius  Nepos, 
and  I  have  read  a  part  of  St.  Matthew  his  Gospel 
in  the  Vulgate" —  (so  I  had,  with  my  uncle).  "  I  wish 
I  had  lessons  here,"  I  added,  regretfully.  "I 
have  forgot  so  much  since  I  had  the  fever,  and  I  love 
my  Latin,  because  I  used  to  read  it  with  Walter." 

"Who  was  Walter— your  brother?" 

"  No,  sister  ;  my  cousin,"  and  then,  in  answer  to 
her  questions,  I  began,  nothing  loth,  to  tell  her  of  my 
home  in  Somersetshire.  Presently  she  dropped  the 
silk,  and  I  saw  she  was  weeping  bitterly. 

"Never  mind,  little  maiden — you  have  done  me 
good,"  she  said  at  last,  as  I  stood  by  her  side,  dis- 
mayed at  her  sorrow,  yet  feeling  by  instinct  that  it 
was  better  to  let  her  have  her  cry  out,  without  calling 
any  one.  She  made  a  great  effort  to  check  her  sobs, 
and  presently,  kissing  me,  she  added  : 

"  I  know  Latin,  and  I  will  teach  you,  if  the  mother 
is  willing." 

"  I  am  sure  she  will  be  willing  !  "  I  answered.  "  She 
said  herself  it  was  a  pity  I  should  lose  what  I  had 
gained."  And  the  mother  passing  at  the  moment,  I 
preferred  my  petition  to  her.  I  think  she  was  un- 
feigned ly  pleased  to  see  poor  Sister  Denys  interested 

*I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  not  antedated  this  wonderful 
schoolbook . 


A  New  Life.  77 

in  any  thing.  She  did  not  go  through  the  usual  form 
of  referring  to  the  prioress,  as  indeed,  she  was  not 
obliged  to  do,  she  having  the  whole  care  of  the 
novices  and  pupils,  but  bade  me  fetch  my  books, 
which  had  been  sent  me  from  London,  and  take  a  les- 
son on  the  spot. 

For  a  while  these  lessons  went  on  very  prosperously. 
Sister  Denys  wr,s  a  good  Latin  scholar,  and  finding 
that  I  was  diligent,  reasonably  quick,  and  liked  learn- 
ing for  its  own  sake,  she  began  also  to  teach  me 
French.  All  that  winter  I  studied  hard,  and  between 
Sister  Denys,  Sister  Cicely,  with  her  music  lessons, 
and  Sister  Theresa,  with  her  embroidery,  I  had  my 
hands  full.  I  did  no  mgre  work  than  was  good  for 
me,  and  had  plenty  of  play  and  sleep,  and,  on  the 
whole,  I  was  very  well,  content  with  my  new  home, 
though  I  used,  now  and  then,  to  have  fits  of  long- 
ing after  my  Aunt  Joyce  and  my  cousins. 

One  day  in  spring,  I  was  called  to  the  parlor.  Sup- 
posing I  was  wanted  to  do  some  errand — I  was  errand- 
boy,  or  rather  girl,  for  the  establishment — I  went  care- 
lessly enough.  The  prioress  was  there,  with  her  attend- 
ant sisters  and  mother  assistant,  and  as  I  came  forward 
to  the  wide  grating  that  divided  the  room,  I  found 
myself  face  to  face  with  my  aunt  and  cousins. 

What  a  meeting  it  was  !  Aunt  Joyce  had  grown 
older  and  looked  careworn,  and  the  twins  were  a  head 
taller,  but  that  was  all  the  change.  The  mother  as- 
sistant whispered  to  the  prioress,  who  assented. 

"  There,  you  may  go  outside  the  grating  and  speak 
to  your  aunt  and  cousins,  child  !  "  said  she.  "  You 
are  not  professed  :  so  it  can  do  no  harm." 

In    another    minute   I  was    in   my  aunt's    arms, 


78  Loveday's  History. 

smothered  with  kisses,  and  turning  from  one  to 
the  other  in  a  very  bewilderment  of  joy.  I  could 
not  help  hoping  for  a  moment  that  they  had  come 
to  take  me  away,  but  my  hopes  were  quickly  dashed. 
They  had  come  on  another  errand,  namely,  to  bid 
me  a  long  farewell.  My  uncle  had  been  back  and 
forth  between  London  and  Antwerp  several  times, 
but  now  he  had  removed  his  business  wholly  to 
that  city,  and  determined  to  settle  there  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  com- 
merce between  Antwerp  and  London  at  that  time, 
and  more  things  were  brought  over  in  the  way  of 
merchandise  than  passed  the  customs. 

Again  the  mother  assistant  whispered  the  prioress, 
and  then  addressed  herself  to  me. 

"Loveday,  you  may  take  your  aunt  and  cousins  to 
see  the  church  and  the  garden  and  orchard.  I  am  sure 
they  will  take  no  undue  advantage." 

"  Surely  not,  reverend  mother  !  "  said  my  aunt,  with 
a  deep  reverence.  "  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
see  my  niece's  future  home.  Joseph  Saunders  is  wait- 
ing without  with  a  present  for  the  house,  and  I  have 
ventured  to  take  the  liberty  of  bringing  down  our  cat, 
if  the  ladies  are  fond  of  such  pets.  He  is  a  fine  crea- 
ture and  somewhat  uncommon." 

"I  saw  in  a  moment  that  mother  assistant  was 
gratified.  She  loved  pet  animals,  and  indeed,  that 
was  about  the  only  indulgence  she  ever  permitted  her- 
self. 

"A  cat — oh,  yes.  Mother  assistant  will  be  de- 
lighted, lam  sure  !  "  said  the  prioress,  rather  peevishly. 
"  She  loves  a  cat  better  than  a  Christian,  any  day." 

"  And  my  nephew  hath  sent  a  case  or  two  of    for- 


A  New  Life.  79 

eign  sweetmeats  and  some  Basle  gingerbread,"*  con- 
tinued my  aunt,  without  noticing  this  not  very  digni- 
fied outburst — "with  some  loaves  of  sugar,  and  a 
packet  of  spices.  He  hopes  my  lady  prioress  will  con- 
descend to  accept  them  as  a  token  of  gratitude  for 
her  kindness  to  his  niece." 

"  Certainly — certainly,  and  with  thanks  !  "  answered 
the  prioress,  with  alacrity.  "  Tell  him  he  shall  have 
our  prayers  for  his  journey.  I  am  sure  he  cannot  be 
inclined  to  heresy  as  they  say,  or  he  would  never  send 
such  nice  presents  to  our  house." 

"  There,  go  child,  and  show  your  cousins  the  garden 
and  the  orchard  ! "  said  the  mother  assistant,  inter- 
posing rather  more  hastily  than  was  consistent  with 
good  discipline.  "  I  will  come  presently  and  make 
acquaintance  with  this  wonderful  cat." 

I  was  not  slow  in  availing  myself  of  the  permission. 
As  I  stopped  to  shut  the  door,  whereof  the  lock  was 
out  of  order,  I  heard  the  prioress  say,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone,  "  Really,  sister — "  and  I  knew  she  was,  as  usual, 
asserting  her  dignity,  and  defending  her  authority, 
which  took  a  good  deal  of  defending,  certainly. 

I  drew  my  aunt  and  cousins  out  to  the  gate,  and  we 
quickly  released  Turk  from  his  imprisonment.  He 
was  hugely  indignant  at  first,  but  finding  himself 
among  friends,  and  being  invited  to  partake  of  re- 
freshment, he  very  soon  smoothed  his  ruffled  plumes, 
and  before  long  was  entirely  at  home. 

"  We  could  not  well  take  him  with  us,  and  my  un- 
cle thought  you  would  like  to  have  him,"  said  my 

*  Basle  then,  as  now,  was  famous  for  its  gingerbread,  which 
is,  in  fact,  a  rich  and  spicy  kind  of  iced  plum  cake — made  to 
keep  long . 


80  Lovedatfs  History. 

aunt.  "  But  let  us  look  at  you,  child.  How  well  you 
look,  and  how  you  have  grown.  You  are  happy  here, 
are  you  not?" 

"  Yes,  aunt !  "  said  I,  indifferently.  "  If  I  cannot  be 
with  you  and  my  cousins,  I  might  as  well  be  here. 
They  are  all  kind.  But  oh,  aunt,  why  does  my  uncle 
go  away  so  far — and  to  a  strange  country,  too  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  child.  He  has  good  reasons, 
or  he  would  never  do  so.  You  may  guess  it  is  hard, 
in  my  old  age,  to  be  transplanted  to  a  foreign  soil,  and 
have  to  learn  new  ways  and  new  tongues  ;  but  God 
knows  best.  His  will  be  done." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  English  in  Antwerp,  my 
father  says  !  "  observed  Katherine. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  and  some  that  we  know — at  least, 
that  your  father  knows." 

"  And  my  father  says  his  house  is  a  fine  one — ' 
even  finer  than  ours  in  London,"  said  Avice  ;  "  but  I 
know  I  shall  never  like  it  as  well." 

"  But  tell  me  all  about  it !  "  said  I.  "  Is  Sambo 
going?" 

*'  Yes,  and  Anne  the  launder,  and  Joseph  Saunders, 
but  no  one  else.  Master  Davis,  the  silk  mercer,  hath 
hired  our  house,  and  he  loves  flowers  as  well  as  my 
father,  so  the  garden  will  be  cared  for." 

"I  should  not  think  Joseph  would  go — he  is  so 
old  !  " 

"  He  hath  been  there  with  my  nephew  and  knows 
the  ways  and  the  language  ;  so  he  will  be  a  help  in 
getting  settled  ! "  said  Aunt  Joyce,  who  seemed  to 
feel  the  change  far  more  than  the  girls,  as  was  indeed 
natural.  "  But,  after  all,  life  is  short,  and  Paradise  is 
as  near  to  Antwerp  as  to  London.  That  is  the  great 


A  New  Life.  81 

comfort.  But  Loveday,  now  that  we  are  alone  to- 
gether, I  must  give  you  your  uncle's  charge  and  his 
letter." 

The  letter  was  short,  but  earnest.  My  uncle  bade 
me  make  myself  contented  so  far  as  I  could,  but  he 
charged  me  to  remember  that  I  was  not  to  be  pro- 
fessed till  I  was  twenty-one.  "  Should  any  thing  hap- 
pen to  make  you  need  a  home — as  is  not  impossible,  if 
I  read  the  signs  of  the  times  aright,"  so  the  letter  pro- 
ceeded, "  do  you  go  to  my  old  friend,  Master  Davis, 
the  silk  mercer,  who  will  always  know  where  I  am, 
and  how  to  send  to  me.  His  wife  is  a  good  woman, 
and  they  will  gladly  give  you  a  home."  My  uncle 
concluded  by  once  more  asking  my  forgiveness  for 
his  hasty  action,  and  most  solemnly  gave  me  his  bless- 
ing. My  aunt  bade  me  give  her  back  the  letter,  and 
I  did  so,  however  reluctantly,  knowing  that  it  would 
not  be  well  to  have  it  found  with  me.  In  a  convent 
nothing  is  one's  own,  and  one  is  all  the  time  watched. 

When  we  had  seen  the  garden  and  orchard,  the 
church  and  such  other  parts  of  the  domain  as  it  was 
proper  to  show  to  strangers,  we  were  called  into  the 
refectory  where  an  elegant  little  repast  was  provided, 
of  which  I  was  allowed  to  partake  with  them.  The 
time  for  parting  came  all  too  soon,  for  the  ride  to  town 
was  not  a  short  one,  and  though  the  days  were  now 
at  the  longest,  the  party  could  not  more  than  reach 
home  before  dark.  I  will  not  dwell  on  that  sorrow- 
ful parting.  Mother  Joanna  led  me  away,  and  when 
I  had  wept  awhile  she  began  to  quiet  me.  She  said 
what  was  true,  that  I  had  been  greatly  indulged  in 
being  allowed  such  free  intercourse  with  my  friends, 
and  that  I  must  show  my  gratitude  by  striving  to  re- 


82  T^oveday^s  History. 

strain  my  grief  so  as  not  to  make  myself  ill.  She  said  a 
good  deal,  too,  in  her  sweet,  gentle  way,  of  submitting 
our  wills  to  the  will  of  Heaven,  because  that  will  is 
sure  to  be  best  for  us,  since  our  heavenly  Father  see- 
ing the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  having,  as  it  were, 
our  whole  lives  spread  out  before  him,  can  judge  far 
better  than  we  can.  (I  began  to  observe,  about  this 
time,  that  wrhile  the  prioress  and  the  other  ladies  in- 
voked saints  by  the  gross  on  all  occasions,  the  mother 
assistant  and  Mother  Joanna  rarely  or  never  did 
so.)  The  dear  mother  understood  me  well.  I  saw 
the  reasonableness  of  what  she  urged,  and  made  a 
great  effort  to  control  my  feelings,  and  though  my 
pillow  \vas  wet  with  tears  for  that,  and  more  than 
one  night  afterward,  I  took  care  that  my  grief  should 
be  troublesome  to  no  one. 

It  was  not  long  after  my  aunt's  visit  that  another 
friend  was  taken,  who  proved  a  great  loss  to  me,  and 
that  was  Sister  Denys.  She  had  gradually  improved 
in  health,  and  I  believe  the  interest  she  took  in  my 
lessons  was  a  great  benefit  to  her  ;  but  I  do  not  think 
she  became  a  wrhit  more  reconciled  to  her  way  of  life. 
She  used  to  remind  mo  of  a  vixen  *  Walter  had,  which, 
though  tamo  enough  to  know  and  love  her  keeper, 
and  cat  out  of  his  hand,  did  yet  never  give  up  trying 
to  escape  from  her  captivity.  I  remember  old  Ralph 
saying  that  if  the  creature  did  once  really  give  up  the 
hope  of  getting  away,  she  would  die.  Sister  Denys 
was  like  that  vixen,  I  think — the  hope  of  escape  kept 
her  alive.  About  this  time,  sho  began  greatly  to 
frequent  a  little  chapel  of  our  patron  saint  built  in 

*A11  my  readers  may  not  kno.v  Unit  Yixm  ij  iLc  proper 
name  of  a  female  fox. 


A  New  Life.  83 

our  orchard,  and  more  than  once  I  had  seen  her  talk- 
ing with  an  old  man,  a  great,  awkward,  shambling 
creature  with  one  eyo,  whom  old  Adam,  our  Scotch 
gardener,  had  hired  to  assist  him.  I  wondered  what 
she  wanted  with  him,  but  I  had  learned  by  that  time 
enough  of  convent  politics  to  see  much  and  say  noth- 
ing. One  fine  morning,  Sister  Denys  and  the  old  lame 
gardener  were  both  missing,  and  when  I  ventured  to 
ask  what  had  become  of  them,  I  was  told  that  Sister 
Denys  had  gone  to  another  house  to  be  professed, 
and  that  the  gardener  had  been  dismissed.  Young  as 
I  was,  a  kind  of  inkling  of  the  truth  came  over 
me,  but  I  did  not  know  the  whole  of  it  till  long  and 
long  after  that  time.  Of  course  there  was  not  a  word 
of  truth  in  the  story,  but  almost  any  thing  is  allowable 
to  save  scandal,  as  the  phrase  is,  and  a  pretty  big  fib 
told  in  the  interest  of  the  church  is,  at  worst,  a  venial 
sin. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    THUNDER  STEIKES. 

DO  not  propose  to  go  very  minutely  into  the 
details  of  my  convent  life.  I  remained  at 
Dartford  for  several  years,  fairly  content 
for  the  most  part,  though  I  now  and  then  had  a 
great  desire  after  more  freedom.  I  wearied  of  the 
trim  grass  plots,  the  orderly  garden,  and  the  orchard 
shut  in  from  the  rest  of  the  world  by  high  walls,  and 
longed  to  find  myself  in  the  open  fields,  with  no 
visible  bound  to  my  footsteps.  I  remembered  mine 
uncle's  house  in  London,  and  wished  myself  back 
there,  or  with  the  family  in  their  new  home.  For  a 
time  after  their  removal  to  Antwerp,  I  heard  from 
the  family.  At  least  twice  a  year,  a  packet  came  with 
letters  for  me,  and  some  valuable  present  for  the 
house,  of  spice,  or  comfits,  or  wonderful  lace,  such  as 
they  know  how  to  make  in  those  parts.  But  after  a 
time  these  packets  stopped  coming,  and  for  many  a 
year  I  had  no  news  of  these  dear  ones  at  all. 

I  had  one  visit  from  my  Lady  Peckham  during  this 
time.  She  came  to  London  on  some  business  about 
her  husband's  estate,  which  could  not  be  easily  set- 
tled, as  there  was  no  absolute  proof  that  Randall 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  85 

was  dead.  The  next  heir  was  a  distant  relation  of 
Sir  Edward's,  v/ho  lived  near  London.  But  this  gen- 
tleman was  an  easy-going  sort  of  person  I  fancy,  or 
perhaps  he  did  not  care  about  burying  himself  in 
that  wild  part  of  Somersetshire.  Any  how,  he  agreed, 
in  consideration  of  a  certain  share  of  the  rents  of 
the  estate,  to  let  Lady  Peckham  live  in  the  house  as 
long  as  she  pleased.  She  had  brought  Sir  Edward  a 
good  fortune,  which  was  settled  wholly  on  herself,  so 
she  was  very  well-to-do.  It  seemed  to  me  that  she 
had  altered  very  little.  She  had  accepted  the  mantle 
and  veil,  and  made  the  vow  of  perpetual  widowhood, 
and  so  might  be  looked  upon  as,  in  some  sort ,  a  rel- 
igious person  as  the  phrase  went  in  those  times.  She 
staid  with  us  a  month  or  more,  and  was,  or  professed 
to  be,  very  much  edified,  though  I  think  she  was 
rather  scandalized  at  the  easiness  of  our  rule,  which 
was,  indeed,  very  different  from  the  discipline  which 
used  to  be  enforced  at  the  house  to  which  I  had 
been  first  destined  at  Bridgewater.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  there  was  any  disorder — far  from  it :  but 
things  went  on  in  a  comfortable,  business-like  fashion. 
There  were  so  many  services  to  be  gone  through,  and 
they  were  gone  through  with  all  due  gravity  and  de- 
corum. We  had  beautiful  singing,  which  people 
came  from  far  and  near  to  hear.  We  kept  our  fast 
days  strictly  enough  as  regards  the  eating  of  flesh 
meat,  but  our  own  stews  gave  us  abundance  of  fish, 
and  our  orchard  and  garden  supplied  fruit  and  vege- 
tables, so  that  we  certainly  did  not  suffer  from  our 
abstinence. 

However,  I  suppose  my  lady  must  have  been  well 
pleased  on  the  whole,  for  she  tried  very  hard  to  make 


86  Loveday's  History. 

me  consent  to  take  the  white  or  novice's  veil.  This, 
however,  I  would  not  do,  pleading  my  solemn  promise 
to  Sir  Edward  and  my  uncle  Gabriel.  My  lady  de- 
clared that  such  promises  made  by  a  child  amounted 
to  nothing,  and  appealed  to  Father  Austin.  I  don't 
know  what  he  said  to  her,  but  it  must  have  been 
something  conclusive,  since  she  said  no  more  to  me 
on  the  matter. 

I  ventured  to  ask  about  my  old  friend  and  play- 
mate, Walter  Corbet.  She  told  me  that  he  was  still 
with  Sir  John  Lambert,  at  Bridgewater,  assisting  in 
the  care  of  the  parish,  but  that  he  had  some  prospect 
of  a  new  field  of  his  own  in  Devon,  not  far  from 
my  old  home.  "'Tis  a  wild  and  lonely  place,  and 
almost  a  savage  people,  so  I  am  told,"  said  my  lady. 
"  But  Walter  seems  to  think  the  pro?pect  of  burying 
himself  among  them  a  delightful  one.  Oh,  if  he 
would  but  have  taken  the  vows  at  Glastonbury,  he 
might  come  to  be  abbot  in  time,  instead  of  living 
and  dying  in  the  gray  walls  of  Ashcomb  vicarage." 

But  those  same  gray  walls  are  still  whole  and  warm, 
while  Glastonbury  is  but  a  stately  ruin,  wasted  by  all 
the  airs  that  blow  freely  through  its  deserted  halls. 
This,  by  the  way. 

My  lady  left  us,  as  I  have  said,  at  the  end  of  a 
month,  to  return  to  Peckham  Hall,  though  at  her  first 
coming  she  had  talked  of  spending  the  remainder  of 
her  days  among  us.  But  I  think  she  was  wise.  Such 
a  life  as  ours  would  not  have  suited  her  at  all.  She 
liked  to  rule  wherever  she  was,  and  had  been  used 
many  years  to  almost  absolute  authority,  for  Sir  Ed- 
ward rarely  interfered  in  any  matter  which  concerned 
the  household ;  and  she  was  too  old  and  too  set  to 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  87 

learn  new  ways.  From  something  I  overheard,  I 
don't  think  mother  assistant  favored  the  notion.  I 
have  heard  her  say  myself  that  a  nun  ought  to  be 
professed  before  she  is  twenty.  I  never  sa\v  my  lady 
again,  though  I  heard  from  her  now  and  then. 

Mother  assistant  was  now  the  real  head  and  ruler 
of  the  house,  for  the  prioress  grew  more  and  more 
indolent  every  day.  She  excused  herself  on  the  score 
of  her  health,  though  I  cannot  but  think  she  would 
have  been  well  enough  if  she  had  taken  more  exercise 
and  eaten  fewer  sweetmeats.  She  could  not  have  had 
a  better  deputy  than  the  mother  assistant,  who  was 
an  excellent  woman  and  well  fitted  to  rule  a  house- 
hold. I  never  saw  a  woman  of  a  more  even  temper, 
and  she  had  that  precious  faculty  of  making  every 
one  do  her  best  in  her  own  place.  Mother  Joarrne 
continued  mistress  of  the  novices,  though  her  task 
was  a  light  one,  for  we  had  very  few  accessions  ;  our 
elections  were  regularly  gone  through  with,  but  they 
were  no  more  than  a  form,  since  the  very  same  officers 
were  elected  over  and  over,  save  when  some  one  died. 
Sister  Sacristine,  who  was  only  a  middle-aged  woman 
when  I  came  to  Dartford,  was  growing  old  and  feeble. 
Two  new  bursars  had  been  elected.  The  trees  had 
grown  older,  and  the  old  Scotch  gardener  more  opin- 
ionated. Sister  Cicely's  hands  grew  too  stiff  to  man- 
age the  organ  at  times,  and  I  often  took  her  place, 
and  acquitted  myself  to  the  satisfaction  of  my  hear- 
ers ;  and  these  are  about  all  the  changes  I  remember, 
till  the  great  change  of  all.  I  have  said  our  lives 
were  very  quiet,  and  so  they  were.  But  when  a  storm 
is  raging,  it  is  hard  to  keep  all  knowledge  or  sign  of 
it  out  of  the  house.  We  heard,  now  and  again,  ru- 


88  Lov  eddy's  History. 

mors  of  the  changes  that  were  going  on  outside.  I 
remember  well  when  Sister  Emma,  the  stewardess, 
heard  from  Dame  Hurst,  who  now  and  then  brought 
oysters  and  other  sea-fish  for  sale,  that  a  great  English 
Bible  had  been  chained  to  a  pillar  in  the  parish  church 
at  Dartford  ;  where  any  one  who  listed  could  go  and 
hear  it  read,  or  read  it  for  themselves,  if  they  pleased. 
Sister  Emma  told  us  this  wonderful  piece  of  news 
when  we  were  all  assembled  under  the  grape-arbor, 
shelling  of  peas  for  our  fast-day  mess. 

It  was  received  with  a  degree  of  horror  and 
amazement,  which  seems  strange  as  I  remember  it, 
now  that  every  householder  who  can  afford  it  may 
have  a  Bible  of  his  own. 

"  What  an  indignity ! "  exclaimed  Sister  Agnes. 
"  To  think  that  the  Holy  Scripture  should  be  chained 
to  a  pillar,  like  a  man  in  a  pillory,  to  be  thumbed  over 
by  every  village  clown  or  dirty  fisherman  who  can  make 
shift  to  spell  out  a  few  words." 

"  You  would  not  compare  a  pillar  in  the  house  of 
our  Lord  to  a  pillory,  would  you,  sister?"  asked 
mother  assistant,  with  that  gentle  smile  of  ridicule 
which  I,  for  one,  dreaded  more  than  the  rod,  when  I 
had  been  naughty. 

"  Why,  no,  reverend  mother,  not  exactly/'  answered 
Sister  Agnes,  in  some  confusion. 

"  Any  how,  it  is  not  the  true  Word  of  God,  but  only 
the  heretics'  translation,"  said  Sister  Margaret, 
sharply.  "  So  it  does  not  matter  what  is  done  with 
it." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  remarked  another  sister, 
rather  timidly.  "I  suppose  it  could  not  be  put  in  the 
churches  every  where,  without  the  consent  of  the 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  89 

bishops  and  the  other  clergy  ;  and  they  would  not 
allow  an  heretical  and  false  translation  in  such  a  place, 
surely.  Only  it  is  a  pity  the  poor  people  should  be 
allowed  to  peril  their  souls'  salvation  by  reading  the 
Scriptures  in  the  vulgar  tongue." 

Even  then,  I  remember,  it  struck  me  as  curious,  that 
people's  salvation  should  be  endangered  by  reading 
the  Word  of  God,  but  I  said  nothing. 

"  They  will  never  put  any  such  thing  in  my 
church — chained  or  unchained — that  I  know,"  said 
Sister  Sacristine,  with  great  emphasis,  and  in  her 
earnestness  emptying  the  peas  in  her  lap  among  the 
cods  in  the  basket.  "  I  would  tear  up  the  book 
with  my  own  hands,  before  such  things  should  be  al- 
lowed near  to  the  shrine  of  the  Holy  Magdalene. 
Thank  the  saints,  we  are  not  subject  either  to  bishop 
or  archbishop,  but  to  our  own  visitor,  and  I  am  very 
sure  he  would  never  order  such  a  thing." 

"In  that  case,  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  waste 
one's  breath  discussing  the  matter,"  said  mother  as- 
sistant. "  Loveday,  you  had  better  pick  up  the  peas 
that  Sister  Sacristine  has  scattered.  It  is  a  pity  they 
should  be  wasted." 

"  There  is  no  telling  what  will  happen — no  telling." 
said  a  very  old  sister,  who  was  warming  herself  in  the 
sun.  "  I  have  strange  visions — I  do.  I  saw  last  night 
the  walls  of  the  fold  pulled  down,  and  the  sheep  scat- 
tered far  and  wide.  But  I  hope  it  won't  come  in  my 
time.  I  have  lived  here  in  these  very  walls  almost 
eighty  years,  and  I  don't  want  to  live  any  where  else." 

"  No,  there  is  no  telling,  and  therefore  we  may  dis- 
miss the  subject,"  said  mother  assistant.  "  When 
they  come  to  ask  us  to  chain  a  Bible  in  our  church,  it 


90  Lovedatfs  lEstory. 

will  be  time  for  us  to  refuse  it.  '  Each  day's  trouble 
is  sufficient  for  the  same  selfe  day.'" 

The  striking  of  the  bell  warned  us  of  the  end  of 
recreation,  and  sent  us  about  our  several  tasks  ;  but 
the  mother's  words  lingered  in  my  ears,  and  I  found 
myself  wondering  again  and  again  where  I  had  heard 
them  before.  At  last  I  remembered  ;  I  had  read  them 
in  my  uncle's  great  book — Master  Tyndale's  book  of 
the  New  Testament,  as  I  afterward  knew  it  to  be— on 
the  very  first  day  that  I  came  to  London. 

Well,  the  days  went  on,  and  though  we  heard  rumors 
of  this  and  that — of  the  disgrace  of  poor  Queen 
Katherine  (which  I  do  maintain  was  an  infamous 
shame),  and  the  marriage  of  the  King  with  Anne 
Boleyn,  mother  of  our  present  good  Queen— of  the  burn- 
ing of  heretics  here  and  there,  and  the  king's  taking 
church  matters  more  and  more  into  his  own  hands — 
though,  as  I  say,  we  heard  rumors  of  all  these  things, 
they  did  not  greatly  disturb  our  peace.  Our  gray, 
circling  walls  were  like  the  magic  circle  of  the  en- 
chanter, and  though  strange  and  malign  shapes  were 
seen  in  very  active  exercise  outside  its  bounds,  yet 
none  had  as  yet  broken  through.  But  our  time  was 
to  come. 

It  was  on  a  pleasant  day  in  the  end  of  September, 
in  the  year  of  grace  1538,  that  the  first  blow  fell  upon 
us.  By  the  same  token  we  Lad,  on  that  very  day, 
buried  old  Turk  in  the  garden  under  a  beautiful  lay- 
lock  tree.  The  poor  old  cat  had  been  very  decrepit 
for  a  long  time,  having  lost  most  of  his  teeth,  so  that 
he  had  to  be  fed  with  hashed  meat,  and  bread  soaked 
in  cream.  Old  Adam  had  said  more  than  once  that 
the  poor  thing  would  be  better  put  out  of  his  pain, 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  91 

but  I  don't  believe  you  could  have  hired  him  to  do  the 
deed — no,  not  with  a  Dutch  tulip-root.  Well,  it  was 
on  that  very  day  that,  coming  in  from  the  orchard 
with  a  basket  of  early  apples,  I  saw  Father  Austin 
walking  up  the  paved  path,  which  led  from  his  house 
to  the  church,  with  such  a  perturbed  face  as  I  never 
saw  him  wear  before.  lie  passed  through  the  church, 
and  presently  the  whole  family  were  called  together 
in  a  great  hall  which  joined  the  church,  and  was 
called — I  don't  know  why — the  chapter-room.  It  was 
the  room  in  which  our  elections  were  held,  and  was 
seldom  or  never  used  on  other  occasions.  There  we 
were,  old  and  young,  all  standing  according  to  our 
degree,  and  some  of  us  looking  scared  enough,  for 
rumor  flies  fast,  and  we  all  had  an  idea  that  something 
dreadful  was  going  to  happen.  The  prioress  sat  in 
her  great  chair,  with  her  attendant  sisters  behind  her, 
and  looked  about  with  a  dazed,  helpless  expression. 
She  had  grown  very  stout  and  unwieldy,  and  some  of 
us  thought  she  was  not  quite  right  in  her  mind.  The 
elders  of  the  house  were  at  her  right  hand,  and  near 
by  stood  Father  Austin  and  another  priest,  with  a 
thin,  clever,  crafty  face,  whom  we  knew  to  be  Bishop 
Gardiner's  chaplain,  and  a  person  of  great  considera- 
tion. I  always  had  a  dislike  to  this  man  ;  chiefly  be- 
cause the  shape  of  his  head — very  flat  behind,  and 
with  prominent  angles  at  the  jaw-bones — reminded 
me  of  a  viper.  I  could  not  help  thinking  at  that  mo- 
ment that  he  watched  the  prioress  as  a  viper  might 
watch  a  fat  frog  on  which  he  had  a  design. 

When  we  were  all  settled,  Father  Austin  raised  his 
hand,  and  spoke :  "  My  mothers  and  sisters,  your  rev- 
rend  prioress  has  called  you  together  to  hear  a  most 


9£  Loveday's  History. 

important  message  which  our  visitor  has  sent  us  by 
his  chaplain,  Father  Simon,  who  will  now  deliver  the 
same. 

With  that  he  was  silent,  and  Father  Simon  spoke. 
I  cannot  remember  his  words,  but  the  gist  of  the  mat- 
ter was  this:  The  king  had  wholly  broken  off  with  the 
pope,  and,  by  consent  of  the  parliament,  had  pro- 
claimed himself  supreme  head  of  the  English  Church. 
All  bishops,  heads  of  religious  houses,  and  certain 
other  officers  were  required  to  take  the  oath  of 
supremacy,  as  it  was  called,  under  severe  penalties — 
even  that  of  death — as  was  like  to  be  the  case  with 
the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  was  now  in  prison  and 
threatened  with  the  loss  of  his  head.  (He  really  did 
come  to  the  scaffold  soon  after.)  It  was  probable  that 
commissioners  would  shortly  be  sent  to  our  house  to 
administer  this  oath,  and  Bishop  Gardiner  —  who, 
though  not  our  bishop,  was  our  regular  visitor  by  some 
ecclesiastical  arrangement  which  I  never  understood — 
had  himself  taken  this  oath,  and  advised  us  to  submit 
to  the  same,  as  a  necessity  of  the  times. 

I  was  watching  the  prioress's  face  during  this  ha- 
rangue, which  was  delivered  in  a  very  gentle  and  in- 
sinuating manner.  (My  eyes  should  have  been  on  the 
ground,  but  they  have  always  had  an  unlucky  trick  of 
wandering.)  I  say,  mine  eyes  should  have  been  on 
the  ground,  but  they  were  watching  our  mother's  face 
instead,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  change  that 
came  over  it,  as  the  words  and  meaning  of  the  father's 
address  penetrated  her  understanding.  Usually  her 
visage  had  about  as  much  expression  as  a  slack-baked 
pie,  and  was  nearly  the  same  color.  By  degrees,  as 
she  understood  the  matter,  her  dull  eyes  opened  wide, 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  93 

and  grew  bright  and  clear,  her  loose  under-lip  was  com- 
pressed, and  a  little  color  came  into  her  cheeks.  When 
the  chaplain  was  silent,  she  spoke,  and  with  such  a 
clear  voice  and  so  much  dignity  of  manner  that  the 
sisters  glanced  at  each  other  in  surprise. 

"I  am  somewhat  slow  of  comprehension,  good 
father.  I  pray  you  bear  with  me  if  my  questions 
seem  not  to  the  purpose.  What  is  it  that  the  king 
hath  declared  himself  ?  " 

The  chaplain  once  more  explained  that  the  king 
now  called  himself  supreme  head  of  the  church. 

"  But  the  pope — our  Holy  Father  at  Rome — is  su- 
preme head  of  the  church  in  all  Christendom  !  "  said 
the  prioress.  . "  How,  then,  can  that  title  belong  to  His 
Grace,  the  King  of  England  ?  There  cannot  be  two 
supreme  heads." 

I  saw  the  chaplain  cast  a  keen  glance  of  satirical 
amusement  at  Father  Austin  before  he  proceeded  to 
explain  once  more  that  the  king,  having  quarreled 
with  the  pope,  in  the  matter  of  his  wife's  divorce  and 
some  other  things,  utterly  denied  him  any  authority 
or  jurisdiction  over  the  realm  of  England  or  its  de- 
pendencies, and  required  all  persons  to  submit  to  him, 
as  formerly  to  the  pope." 

"  But  he  is  not  the  head,  so  what  difference  does  it 
make  what  he  calls  himself?"  persisted  the  prioress. 
"And  how  can  the  bishop,  who  \a  himself  sworn  to 
obey  the  pope  in  all  things,  obey  the  king  when  the 
king  is  opposed  to  him." 

"  I  am  not  here  to  explain  or  justify  the  conduct  of 
your  venerable  visitor,  reverend  mother!"  said  the 
chaplain,  rather  arrogantly  ;  "  but  only  to  convey  you 
Iris  counsels  and  commands.  The  further  continuance 


94:  Lovcday's  History. 

of  this  holy  community — nay,  your  own  life — may 
depend  on  your  obedience.  You  would  not  like  to  be 
put  in  prison,  like  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  !  "  Know- 
ing the  mother's  love  of  ease,  I  suppose  he  thought 
this  a  knock-down  argument,  but  he  was  mistaken. 
One  may  know  a  person  very  well,  and  yet  not  be 
be  able  to  foretell  what  that  person  will  do  in  an 
emergency. 

"  I  should  not  like  it  at  all  !  "  said  the  prioress.  "  It 
would  be  very  uncomfortable  to  lie  upon  straw  and 
have  nothing  but  bread  and  water,  and  cold  water 
always  makes  me  ill.  But  I  do  not  see  how  that 
makes  any  difference  about  the  pope  being  head  of 
the  church,  and  if  he  is  supreme  head,  then  the  king 
cannot  be.  That  is  all  about  it." 

With  that  the  chaplain  took  on  a  higher  tone,  and 
began  to  bluster  a  little.  Would  she,  a  mere  woman, 
pretend  to  sit  in  judgment  not  only  on  a  bishop  and 
her  visitor,  but  also  on  the  king  himself  ?  Was  it 
not  her  duty  as  a  religious  to  have  no  mind  of  her 
own,  but  only  to  do  as  she  was  told  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  think  so,  reverend  father,  when  the 
question  was  of  placing  an  English  Bible  in  the 
church  for  the  sisters  to  read  when  they  pleased  ! " 
said  the  prioress.  "  That  was  the  king's  will,  too,  as 
I  understand,  and  yet  both  our  visitor  and  yourself 
said  I  was  right  in  refusing,  because  ours  was  not  a 
parish  church.  And  the  very  Bible  that  was  sent 
down  lies  locked  up  in  the  press  in  the  sacristy.  Does 
it  not,  mother  assistant  ?  " 

"  It  was  there  at  one  time,  but  I  have  had  it  re- 
moved to  a  safer  place  ! "  answered  the  mother  as- 
sistant, quietly.  I  saw  the  sisters  exchange  glances 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  95 

of  amazement  from  under  their  down-dropped  lids. 
This  was  the  first  time  we  had  heard  of  any  such 
book.  But  that  is  the  way  in  a  consent.  A  measure 
which  affects  your  very  life  may  be  settled,  and  you 
be  none  the  wiser. 

"Very  well,  reverend  mother,  1  sha'l  say  no  more 
at  this  time  ! "  said  the  chaplain,  after  a  moment's 
pause.  "  I  will  report  to  your  reverend  visitor  that 
you  have  decided  to  take  matters  into  your  own 
hands,  and  that  being  the  case,  he  will  doubtless  leave 
this  house  and  its  inhabitants  to  their  fate — that  fate 
•which  has  already  overtaken  so  many  religious  com- 
munities. When  the  commissioners  come  down  and 
you  see  your  revenues  confiscated  and  your  daughters 
turned  out,  and  the  beautiful  shrine  of  the  Holy 
Magdalene  stripped  of  all  its  ornaments  and  treasures, 
I  hope  you  will  be  satisfied  with  your  contumacy." 

"  I  shall  not  be  satisfied  at  all,  and  I  don't  want  my 
daughters  turned  out !  "  said  the  prioress.  "And  I  am 
not  contumacious,  either.  I  have  always  done  just 
as  our  visitor  directed  about  every  thing,  and  you 
know  I  have,  Father  Simon  ;  only  I  ca?i>f  see  how 
the  king  can  be  supreme  head  of  the  church,  when 
the  pope  is  the  head  !  I  would  lay  down  my  life  for 
this  house  ! "  she  added,  raising  herself  from  hef 
chair  and  standing  erect  with  a  dignity  that  might 
have  belonged  to  St.  Katherine  of  Egypt,  or  any 
other  sainted  queen.  "  I  would  be  torn  by  wild 
beasts  before  my  dear,  dutiful  children  should  be 
turned  out  upon  the  world ;  but  I  can  not  deny 
the  authority  of  our  Holy  Father  the  Pope,  and 
put  another  in  his  place,  without  greater  and  bet- 
ter reason  than  I  see  now,  and  so  with  my  humble 


96  Loveday's  History. 

duty  ana  reverence,  you  may  tell  his  reverence,  Sir 
Chaplain." 

We  looked  at  each  other  without  disguise  now,  so 
great  was  our  amazement.  If  the  figure  of  the  Holy 
Virgin  in  the  Lady  Chapel  had  spoken,  we  should  not 
have  been  more  surprised.  But  we  had  not  long  to 
indulge  our  wonder.  I  saw  the  mother  assistant 
move  nearer  to  the  prioress,  and  in  another  instant 
the  poor  lady  had  sunk  down  in  her  chair  in  a  fit. 

The  room  was  all  in  confusion  for  a  moment;  but 
nuns,  like  soldiers,  feel  the  power  of  habitual  disci- 
pline, and  in  a  minute  or  two  mother  assistant  had  re- 
stored order.  She  and  the  sick-nurse  were  support- 
ing the  prioress,  and  she  called  me  to  help  her,  as  I 
was  one  of  the  strongest  of  the  family,  bidding  the 
others  betake  themselves  to  the  work-rooms,  where 
was  their  place  at  this  hour. 

We  carried  the  lady  to  her  own  room,  with  the  help 
of  the  two  priests — we  could  hardly  have  done  it 
without  them,  she  was  so  heavy — and  Father  Aus- 
tin, who  was  surgeon  as  well  as  priest,  proceeded  to 
bleed  her.  The  blood  would  hardly  flow  at  first,  but 
at  last  it  did,  and  the  treatment  was  so  far  successful, 
that  the  mother  opened  her  eyes,  and  swallowed  the 
restorative  which  was  put  into  her  mouth,  though  she 
did  not  try  to  speak,  and  seemed  to  know  no  one.  We 
undressed  her,  and  got  her  into  bed,  and  then  mother  as- 
sistant dismissed  me,  bidding  me  go  and  take  the  air  a 
little  for  that  I  looked  pale.  Indeed  I  had  had  much 
ado  to  keep  from  fainting,  as  I  had  never  seen  any 
person  bled  before,  but  I  summoned  all  my  resolu- 
tion, and  held  out. 

I   went  to  the   work-room   where   all   the    sisters 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  97 

were  assembled  round  the  frames,  on  which  the 
new  hangings  were  being  worked  for  the  Lady 
Chapel.  We  were  permitted  so  much  converse  as 
was  actually  needful,  at  such  times,  and  not  uncom- 
monly the  liberty  was  stretched  a  little,  for,  as  I  said 
before,  the  discipline  of  our  house  was  not  over  strict; 
but  I  never  heard  such  a  gabble  as  was  now  going  on. 
As  I  entered  and  went  to  the  press  to  find  my  own 
particular  bit  of  work  (which  was  a  piece  of  needle 
lace  on  a  small  frame),  intending  to  take  it  out  into  the 
summer-house,  I  was  assailed  by  a  volley  of  questions. 

"  How  is  the  reverend  mother  ?  "  "  Hath  she 
spoken?  "  "  Will  she  die  ?  "  "Will  she  live?  "  "Will  she 
take  the  oath?  "  "Where  is  the  mother  assistant,  and 
Mother  Joanna  ?  "  It  vexed  me  to  see  them  all  so  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  their  elder's  absence,  and  I  an- 
swered, rather  sharply,  I  fear. 

"  How  many  more  ?  The  mother  is  better,  but  she 
has  not  spoken,  and  no  one  knows  whether  she  will 
live  or  die — much  more  whether  she  will  take  the  oath. 
As  to  mother  assistant,  and  Mother  Joanna,  it  is  very 
plain  that  wherever  they  are,  they  are  not  here.  One 
could  tell  that  half  a  mile  off. " 

Some  of  the  sisters  looked  ashamed,  but  Sister 
Perpetua  answered  me  sharply; 

"  You  are  very  pert,  Sister  Postulant."  (That  had 
been  ray  rank  for  a  good  while  now,  for  I  had  no 
other  thought  than  to  end  my  days  at  St.  Magda- 
lene's.) "  It  does  not  become  you  to  reprove  and 
check  your  elders." 

"  It  does  not  become  her  elders  to  give  cause  of  re- 
proof !  "  said  Sister  Bridget,  a  quiet,  retiring  woman, 
the  elder  of  the  party  :  "  The  child  is  right,  and  we 


98  Loveday's  History. 

have  been  to  blame.  As  the  oldest  present,  I  must 
request  you,  sisters,  to  be  quiet  and  attend  to  your 
work." 

"You  are  not  the  oldest  present,"  answered  Sis- 
ter Perpetua.  "  Sister  Anne  is  older  than  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  am  not  ! "  said  Sister  Anne,  with 
some  sharpness.  "  Sister  Bridget  is  fully  half  a  dozen 
years  older  than  I  am,  are  you  not,  sister  ?  " 

"  More  than  that,  I  should  say,"  replied  Sister  Brid- 
get, tranquilly.  (N.  B.  She  was  very  pretty  and  young 
looking,  while  Sister  Anne  was  both  plain  and  wrink- 
led) :  But  you  know  as  well  as  I,  sister,  that  it  is  not 
age,  but  standing  in  the  house,  that  settles  such  mat- 
ters. Again, as  the  oldest  present,!  must  request  you, 
sisters,  to  pursue  your  work  in  silence.  Prayers  and 
psalms  and  holy  meditations  are  better  fitted  for 
people  in  our  evil  case,  threatened  not  only  with  the 
death  of  our  reverend  mother,  but  with  the  loss  of  all 
things,  than  such  laughing  and  gossip  as  has  gone  on 
for  the  last  half  hour.  I  take  shame  to  myself,  and 
thank  the  child  for  her  reproof,  though  it  might  have 
been  more  gently  spoken." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sister,"  said  I.  She  had  spoken 
with  a  great  deal  of  gravity,  and  feeling,  and  most 
of  the  sisters  had  the  grace  to  look  ashamed,  only  Sis- 
ter Perpetua  muttered  under  her  breath,  but  so  I 
heard  her: 

"  Fine  airs,  to  be  sure.  But  you  are  not  prioress  just 
yet,  and  many  things  may  happen." 

I  don't  know  what  brought  her  to  a  religious 
house,  I  am  sure,  unless  it  was  that  her  friends 
wished  to  get  rid  of  her,  which  was  the  reason  a  great 
many  nuns  were  professed  in  those  days.  I  am  very 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  99 

sure  she  never  had  any  vocation  for  such  a  life,  and 
she  showed  it  after  she  got  out. 

By  that  time  my  faintness  was  gone,  but  I  thought 
I  would  like  to  be  alone,  so  I  told  Sister  Bridget 
what  mother  assistant  had  said,  and  withdrew.  I 
had  plenty  to  think  about  as  I  worked.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  our  house  would  be  turned  out  of 
windows,  as  that  of  the  Gray  Nuns  at  Bridgewater 
had  been — that  venerable  institution  founded  in  the 
days  of  the  Confessor — and  if  so,  what  would  be- 
come of  all  ?  I  had  not  heard  from  my  uncle,  nor 
from  Lady  Peckham  in  several  years,  and  knew  not 
whether  they  were  alive  or  dead.  However,  I  was 
not  so  greatly  concerned  about  my  own  fate.  I 
was  young  and  strong,  a  good  needle-woman  and 
musician,  and  I  thought  I  could  easily  find  a  place  as 
waiting-woman,  or  to  attend  upon  young  gentle- 
women. But  what  would  become  of  such  as  Sister 
Bridget  and  Sister  Cicely,  and  Sister  Sacristine  and 
Mother  Joanna — old  women  who  had  spent  all  their 
lives  in  those  walls,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  world 
beyond  their  boundary.  Then  I  began  to  think  about 
that  Bible  and  to  wonder  where  it  was,  and  what  was 
in  it.  I  remembered  the  text  mother  assistant  had 
quoted,  and  wondered — not  without  blaming  myself 
for  the  thought — if  she  had  road  it  in  that  same  Bible. 

We  had  heard  before,  that  though  people  were 
permitted  to  read  the  Word  of  God,  they  were  for- 
bidden to  discuss  or  dispute  about  it,  which  was  much 
as  if  one  should  open  the  floodgates  a  little  and  then 
forbid  the  water  to  run  through. 

I  was  BO  lost  in  my  musings  that  I  started  as  if 
I  had  been  shot  when  the  bell  rung  for  vespers.  We 


100  Lomday*s  History. 

heard  at  supper  that  the  prioress  had  rallied  a  little, 
but  neither  Father  Austin  nor  the  doctor,  who  had 
been  sent  for,  believed  she. could  get  well. 

That  was  an  anxious  time.  The  prioress  lingered 
for  several  days,  sometimes  quite  herself  for  a  few 
hours  at  a  time,  but  mostly  lying  in  a  death-like 
stupor.  The  elders  were  of  course  much  with  her,  and 
the  discipline  of  the  house  was  unusually  relaxed.  It 
was  a  time  that  showed  what  people  were  made  of. 
The  really  sincere  and  religious  sisters  went  on  with 
their  duties  just  as  usual,  being  perhaps  a  little  more 
punctilious  in  their  performance;  others  took  advant- 
age, broke  rules,  got  together  in  knots  and  coteries 
and  gossiped — not  always  in  the  most  edifying  way — 
of  what  was  coming  to  pass,  and  what  they  would  do 
when  they  got  out.  I  was  very  angry  with  them 
then,  but  I  can  make  more  excuse  for  them  in  these 
days.  Many  of  them,  like  Sister  Perpetua,  had  no  real 
calling  to  a  religious  life  (it  was  called  the  religious 
life  in  those  days,  as  if  no  one  could  be  religious  out 
a  cloister).  They  were  mostly  younger  daughters  and 
orphan  sisters,  who  were  not  likely  to  marry  well 
and  were  sent  to  the  convent  as  a  safe  and  respecta- 
ble place  out  of  the  way.  Not  that  all  were  so,  by 
any  means,  but  we  had  enough  of  that  element  to  re- 
joice in  any  relaxation  of  rules. 

One  day  at  sunset,  however,  the  suspense  was  at  an 
end  so  far  as  the  prioress  was  concerned.  We  were 
all  called  into  the  ante-room  of  the  apartment  to 
assist  at  the  last  rites,  and  after  they  were  over,  we 
stood  watching  our  poor  mother  who,  supported  in 
the  arms  of  mother  assistant,  was  painfully  gasping 
her  life  away.  Her  face  wore  an  anxious  expression, 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  101 

and  her  eyes  turned  from  one  to  another  in  a  way 
that  showed  she  was  quite  conscious.  Now  and  then 
she  said  a  word  or  two  in  a  low  tone — so  low  that  we 
in  the  outer  room  could  not  hear.  At  last  mother 
assistant  beckoned  me,  and  whispered  me  to  give  her 
a  dry  napkin  from  a  pile  that  lay  on  the  table.  As  I 
did  so,  I  heard  the  prioress  say,  in  a  distressed  whisper: 

"But  Purgatory — that  dreadful  place — are  you 
sure  ?  " 

Mother  assistant  bent  down  to  her  and  whispered 
in  her  ear — I  was  close  by  and  heard  the  words 
plainly  :  "  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us 
from  all  sin."  The  poor  lady  smiled,  and  just  as  the 
last  ray  of  the  sun  shot  into  the  window,  she  passed 
peacefully  away. 

She  was  a  good  woman  in  the  main,  and  very  much 
of  a  lady,  but  she  had  allowed  indolence — coming 
from  an  illness  in  the  first  place — to  grow  upon  her 
till  it  became  an  over-mastering  passion — if  one  can 
call  indolence  a  passion. 

It  came  to  that,  that  any  call  to  exertion  was  looked 
upon  as  a  positive  misfortune.  She  had  such  able 
assistants,  that  this  state  of  things  did  not  produce  so 
much  trouble  as  might  have  been  expected,  but  any 
one  who  knows  what  a  houseful  of  ungoverned  young 
people  is  like,  may  guess  what  our  community 
would  have  become  but  for  Father  Austin  and  mother 
assistant. 

As  soon  as  it  was  decent,  a  new  meeting  was 
called,  and  no  one  was  surprised  at  the  choice  of 
mother  assistant  to  be  prioress.  Mother  Joanna 
was  made  assistant  and  Sister  Bridget  put  in  her 
place — a  very  good  choice.  At  "  obedience,"  when 


102  Loveday's  History. 

we  were  all  assembled  in  her  room,  our  new  prior- 
ess made  us  an  address,  and  very  noble  and  touch- 
ing it  was.  She  reminded  us  of  our  precarious 
condition,  likely  at  any  time  to  be  turned  out. 
She  said  she  had  been  pained  to  know  that 
some — she  would  name  no  names  at  present — but 
would  leave  the  matter  to  our  own  consciences — 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  state  of  things  to  be- 
have in  a  way  which  was  unbecoming  their  pro- 
fession, and  to  good  order.  Here  two  or  three  of 
our  best  sisters  who  had  been  guilty  of  some  little 
acts  of  forgetf  ulness  kneeled  down  and  kissed  the  floor, 
while  Sister  Perpetua  and  Sister  Regina,  who  had 
been  the  ring-leaders,  stood  up  as  bold  as  brass. 
(It  is  always  those  who  deserve  blame  least  who  take 
it  to  themselves.)  She  then  pointed  out  the  import- 
ance of  good  order  and  discipline,  that  our  enemies 
might  have  nothing  whereof  justly  to  accuse  us. 
She  would  not  conceal  the  fact  that  we  stood  in 
great  peril,  but  we  were  in  higher  hands  than  our 
own.  She  would  have  us  neither  anxious  nor  care- 
less, but  pursuing  a  recollected  and  cheerful  frame 
of  mind,  giving  ourselves  to  prayer  and  good  works, 
and  not  being  anxious  about  the  morrow.  She 
would  pass  over  all  that  had  happened  for  the  last  few 
days,  unless  there  were  those  who  wished  to  clear 
their  consciences  by  confessing  any  breach  of  disci- 
pline :  but  hereafter  every  thing  would  be  kept  up 
to  the  standards  of  the  house.  She  concluded  by 
asking  our  prayers  for  herself  and  her  assistants,  in  a 
tone  of  true  humility  that  brought  tears  to  many 
eyes.  We  noticed  that  she  said  nothing  about  pray- 
ing for  the  soul  of  our  departed  mother,  whereby  we 


The  Thunder  Strikes.  103 

argued  that  she  believed  that  soul  to  be  already  in 
Paradise.  She  then  dismissed  us  with  her  blessing, 
and  all  things  seemed  to  fall  into  their  usual  train.  I 
have  heard  that  people  who  live  where  there  are  vol- 
canoes, get  used  to  them  so  that  they  carry  on  their 
business  just  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter.  We  were 
then  living  on  the  crust  of  a  volcano  which  might 
blow  us  into  the  air  at  any  time,  but  we  had  already 
become  used  to  it,  and  as  the  autumn  passed  into 
winter,  we  almost  forgot  our  danger.  Sister  Perpe- 
tua,  indeed,  tried  titles  once  or  twice,  but  she  soon 
found  that  while  the  reverend  mother  had  a  house 
over  her  head,  she  meant  to  be  mistress  in  it,  and 
after  doing  penance  three  whole  days  in  the  vaulted 
room  under  the  sacristy  on  a  diet  of  bread  and  water, 
and  not  much  of  that,  she  was  very  meek  and  sub- 
dued for  a  while. 

Somehow  or  other  the  storm  was  diverted  for  that 
time.  I  suppose  that  Bishop  Gardiner,  being  so  great 
with  the  king,  contrived  to  keep  the  matter  from  his 
knowledge.  However  it  was,  the  apples  were  gathered 
and  garnered  in  peace,  the  usual  stock  of  faggots  laid 
in,  and  we  settled  down  to  our  in-door  occupations  as 
if  nothing  was  the  matter.  The  reverend  mother 
had  a  great  deal  of  work  put  in  hand,  and  instead  of 
our  usual  whispered  conversations  we  had  loud  read- 
ing in  the  Imitation  of  Christ,  and  other  good  books. 
Sometimes  our  mother  would  read  us  passages  out  of 
the  Gospels,  from  a  little  written  book  which  she  held 
in  her  hand,  copied  I  fancy  from  that  same  great  Bi- 
ble which  was  never  put  in  the  church.  I  had  read 
many  of  them  before  in  the  great  book  of  Master 
Tyndale's,  which  my  uncle  kept  in  his  desk,  and  they 


104  Loveday's  History. 

set  me  thinking  more  than  ever  of  mine  old  home. 
These  readings  were  much  liked  by  the  serious  part 
of  our  community,  and  as  for  the  others,  what  ever 
they  might  feel,  they  knew  enough  to  keep  their  own 
counsel.  It  was  about  this  time,  I  remember  being 
struck  with  the  fact  that  in  the  whole  Imitation,  from 
beginning  to  end,  there  is  not  one  single  word  or  hint 
of  any  worship  offered  to  the  Virgin.  I  ventured  to 
say  as  much  once  to  Father  Austin,  with  whom  I 
still  did  a  Latin  lesson  now  and  then,  and  to  ask  him 
what  he  thought  was  the  reason  ;  whereat  fie  smiled, 
and  said  when  I  saw  Saint  Thomas  in  Paradise  I 
might  ask  him. 

The  orchards  bore  very  plentifully  that  year,  and 
we  sold  our  crop  at  a  good  price.  We  were  helping 
to  pick  up  the  last  of  them  one  fine  October  day, 
when  old  Adam  remarked  that  he  wondered  who 
would  have  the  ordering  of  those  same  trees  another 
year. 

"  Why,  you  yourself — why  not  ?  "  said  I. 

"Ka,  na,  lassie,  I'll  no  be  here  next  year;  at  least  I 
think  not." 

"  You  do  not  think  you  are  going  to  die  ?  "  said  I, 
anxiously,  for  he  was  a  great  friend  of  mine.  "  Do 
you  feel  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  my  health  well  enough  for  one  of  my 
years.  But  we  Islesmen  have  whiles  a  gliff  of  the 
second  sight,  and  I  have  had  strange  visions  concern- 
ing this  house." 

"  Oh,  you  are  thinking  about  the  visit  of  the  com- 
missioners !  "  said  I.  "  But  you  see  that  has  blown 
over  and  nothing  has  come  of  it." 

"I  have  whiles  seen  a  storm  blow  over  and  then 


Tfie  T/iunder  Strikes.  105 

come  back  !  "  said,  the  old  man,  seriously.  "  Na,  na, 
lassie.  Dinna  be  too  confident.  "  What's  f  risted*  is 
no  forgotten." 

*  Fristed  is  "covered  up,"  or  "skinned  over." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    LIGHTNING    STRIKES    AGAIN. 

|HE  old  man  was  right.  With  the  spring 
came  rumors  of  renewed  attacks  upon  the 
religious  foundations  all  over  the  country. 
We  heard  before  of  the  execution  of  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  who  laid  down  his  gray  head  upon  the 
block  because  he  would  not  acknowledge  the  king  to 
be  pope — for  that  is  what  it  amounted  to.  (Nothing 
can  be  more  absurd  than  to  call  Henry  the  Eighth  a 
Protestant.)  Our  own  prioress  might  be  said  to  have 
died  in  the  same  cause.  Nobody  had  appeared  to 
administer  the  oath  to  our  present  head,  however, 
and  we  had  begun  to  think  that  we  were  to  be  let 
alone.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  reverend  mother 
had  any  such  hopes.  Our  foundation  was  a  wealthy 
one,  and  our  church  was  well  known  to  be  unusually 
rich  in  gold  and  silver.  There  was  abundance  of 
shrines,  reliquaries  and  boxes,  as  valuable  for  their 
splendid  workmanship  as  for  the  precious  metals  of 
which  they  were  made,  and  the  jewels  with  which 
they  were  incrusted.  Then  there  were  missals  set 
with  precious  stones,  beautiful  hangings  and  vest- 
ments, and  vessels,  and  candlesticks,  and  the  like. 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  107 

These  articles  were  all  displayed  upon  feast  days,  and 
when  our  great  altar  was  lighted  up  at  the  festival 
of  our  Patroness,  it  was  a  spectacle  almost  too  bright 
for  mortal  eyes. 

Such  a  prey  was  not  likely  very  long  to  escape  the 
teeth  and  claws  of  my  Lord  Cromwell,  and  his  master. 
Bishop  Gardiner  himself  was  very  forward  in  promo- 
ting the  king's  designs  upon  the  religious  houses  (for 
as  devout  as  he  afterward  professed  himself).  He 
was  our  visitor,  as  I  have  said,  and  when  the  very 
shepherd  is  in  league  with  the  wolves,  the  silly  sheep 
have  little  chance  of  escape. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  morning  in  May  that  destruc- 
tion overtook  us.  We  had  just  come  out  of  chapel 
for  our  recreation,  when  we  heard  a  thundering 
knocking  at  the  great  gate,  and  the  portress  going  to 
open  it,  found  a  couple  of  gentlemen,  and  our  old 
friend,  or  enemy,  the  bishop's  chaplain,  with  letters 
from  my  Lord  Cromwell  and  Bishop  Gardiner  for 
the  prioress  and  community.  We  were  all  in  the  gar- 
den, huddled  together  and  watching  afar  off,  when  the 
mother  assistant  called  us  to  come  into  the  ante-room 
of  the  choir,  where  we  were  wont  to  put  on  the  long 
mantles  which  we  wore  in  church.  We  were  bid  to 
array  ourselves  as  quickly  as  possible  and  get  our- 
selves into  the  usual  order  of  our  procession.  This 
being  done,  and  preceded  by  the  cross-bearers,  as  was 
the  way  in  our  grand  processionals,  the  singers  passed 
into  the  choir,  singing  as  usual,  I  being  at  the  organ, 
which  I  was  accustomed  to  play  for  all  church  services. 
The  youngest  sisters  came  first  and  the  prioress  last. 
Father  Austin  stood  near  the  altar,  his  head 
bowed  down  with  grief,  yet  commanding  himself  like 


108  JLoveday's  History. 

a  man.  The  bishop^s  chaplain  and  the  two  other  vis- 
itors stood  beside  him,  and  the  latter  were  passing 
their  remarks  freely  enough  upon  all  they,  saw,  and 
even  on  the  figures  and  faces  of  the  sisters.  Stand- 
ing upon  the  chancel  steps  they  could  look  directly 
into  the  choir,  which  no  one  in  the  body  of  the  church 
could  see  at  all.  I  must  do  our  ladies  the  justice  to 
say  that  they  seemed,  one  and  all,  totally  unconscious 
of  the  presence  of  these  strange  men.  Even  Sister 
Perpetua  was  awed  into  decent  behavior. 

When  all  were  in  their  places,  the  chaplain  an- 
nounced his  errand.  He  had  come,  by  the  authority 
of  the  king  and  his  minister,  my  Lord  Cromwell,  to 
demand  the  surrender  of  the  charter  of  that  house  to 
his  majesty,  with  all  treasures  of  every  sort,  and  all 
superstitious  relics,  whereof  my  lord  was  well  informed 
we  possessed  a  great  number.  All  members  of  the 
family  were  to  be  at  liberty  to  depart  whither  they 
would,  being  furnished,  by  the  king's  liberality,  with 
a  suit  of  secular  clothing.  As  to  the  house  and  its 
contents,  they  were  to  be  at  the  absolute  disposition 
of  the  king,  and  no  one  was  to  presume,  on  pain  of 
felony,  to  secrete,  carry  off,  or  make  away  with  any 
article  whatever,  though  by  the  king's  special  grace 
and  favor  toward  the  bishop,  the  sisters  might  take  any 
books  or  other  property  of  their  own,  not  above  the 
value  of  three  marks.*  The  visitors  had  brought  down 
articles  of  surrender  for  the  prioress  to  sign,  and  two  of 
the  commissioners  would  remain  to  take  an  inventory 
of  our  goods,  and  see  such  as  were  of  value  packed  for 
removal. 

*  See  many  such  surrenders  in  the  Camden  Miscellany  and 
in  Fuller's  Church  History. 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again,  109 

I  do  not  suppose  that  any  one  now  can  estimate  the 
shock  of  this  declaration.  I  do  think,  if  the  earth 
had  quaked  and  shaken  down  church  and  convent  in 
one  common  ruin,  it  would  not  have  amazed  and  hor- 
rified us  as  much.  I  am  sure  when  the  spire  was 
struck  by  lightning — whereby  two  of  our  bells  were 
melted — we  were  not  nearly  as  astounded.*  I,  hidden 
away  in  the  organ  loft,  could  watch  the  faces  of  the 
sisters.  One  or  two  burst  into  tears,  but  the  greater 
part  were  too  much  stunned  to  move.  The  prioress 
was  very  pale,  but  she  spoke  in  her  usual  even,  some- 
what deep  voice. 

"  These  are  heavy  tidings  you  bring  us,  gentlemen. 
How  have  we  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  under  his 
Grace's  displeasure  ?  " 

The  gentlemen  looked  at  each  other,  and  one  of 
them  began  reciting  a  long  list  of  the  sins  and  short- 
comings of  the  religious  houses,  whereby  his  majesty 
was  moved,  by  his  zeal  for  true  religion,  to  suppress 
all  houses  below  a  certain  value — two  hundred  pounds 
a  year — I  believe.  The  prioress  heard  him  to  the 
end,  and  answered  in  the  samo  calm  tone. 

"  For  the  misorders  and  scandals  whereof  you  speak, 
I  can  answer  for  no  house  but  my  own.  Sure  I  am, 
that  for  the  forty  years  I  have  lived  in  these  hallowed 
walls,  no  such  thing  has  happened  here,  and  as  -our 
revenues  are  nearer  to  three  hundred  a  year  than  two, 
I  see  not  how  his  Grace's  royal  will  applies  to  us." 

"  We  will  be  the  judges  of  that,"  answered  the 
commissioner,  arrogantly.  "As  to  the  matter  of 

*  Fuller  notes,  as  remarkable,  the  number  of  abbeys  and 
priories  which  were,  at  one  time  or  another,  burned  by  light- 
ning. He  gives  a  list  of  thirteen  thus  destroyed. 


110  Tjoveday^s  History. 

scandals,  we  have  been  better  informed  by  some  of 
your  own  number.  There  have  been  scandals  enow, 
especially  of  late.  Will  you  dare  tell  me,  woman, 
that  no  young  men  have  been  entertained  in  this 
house — that  there  has  been  no  junketing  and  carous- 
ing in  the  very  parlor  of  the  prioress  herself.  I  tell 
you  we  have  sure  information,  and  will  you  dare  to 
deny  it?" 

The  prioress  paused  for  a  little,  and  let  her  eyes 
travel  from  face  to  face  round  the  circle.  When  she 
came  to  Sister  Perpetua  and  Sister  Regina,  she  looked 
them  in  the  face  for  a  full  minute.  There  was  no 
need  to  inquire  further  who  was  the  false  witness. 
Their  visages  spoke  for  them.  (It  was  much  the  same 
with  all  the  religious  houses.  There  was  always  some 
traitor  in  the  camp,  ready,  whether  for  greed  of  gain 
or  to  curry  favor,  or  because  of  weariness  of  their 
vows,  to  inform  against  their  brethren.)  '  The  lady 
was  about  to  speak  again,  when  the  other  commissioner 
interrupted  her.  He  was  the  elder  of  the  two,  and 
altogether  more  decent  in  his  demeanor. 

"  Under  your  favor,  honored  lady,  I  would  counsel 
you  to  take  time  for  advisement,  and  to  read  the  letter 
sent  you  by  your  reverend  visitor,  which  his  chaplain 
will  hand  you.  After  that  we  will  hear  your  decision." 

"It  is  well  spoken,  sir,"  answered  the  prioress. 
"  Meantime,  please  you,  gentlemen,  to  withdraw  to 
the  house  of  Father  Austin,  our  priest  and  confessor, 
where  I  will  give  order  for  your  entertainment." 

"  Nay,  reverend  mother,  methinks  the  common 
fare  of  your  refectory  will  suit  us  well  enough,"  re- 
turned the  younger  man.  "  If  all  tales  be  true,  we 
are  not  the  first  who  have  had  such  entertainment, 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  Ill 

and  methinks  we  were  safer  to  make  you  our 
taster." 

The  reverend  mother  made  no  reply  to  his  impu- 
dence, but  giving  a  sign  to  the  sisters,  they  withdrew 
as  they  had  entered.  When  all  had  passed  but  her- 
self and  the  mother  assistant,  she  advanced  to  the 
wide  grating  which  separated  the  choir  from  the 
church,  and  held  out  her  hand,  covered  with  a  fold  of 
her  robe,  for  the  bishop's  letter.  The  elder  man  gave  it 
her  with  a  reverence  for  which  I  liked  him  all  the  bet- 
ter, and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  as  the  other  turned  away  : 

"  Be  advised,  madam.  Resistance  can  do  no  good, 
and  will  bring  only  heavier  calamity  on  yourself  and 
your  flock.  Be  advised,  and  follow  your  visitor's 
counsel." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  words,  which  I  see  are 
kindly  meant,"  said  the  prioress  ;  "  but  I  must  have  a 
little  time  to  consider  the  matter.  How  long  can  you 
give  me  ?  " 

He  called  back  his  brother  commissioner,  and  after 
consultation,  in  which  he  seemed  to  press  some  point 
which  the  other  yielded  unwillingly,  he  turned  and 
said  :  "  Till  to-morrow  at  this  hour,  madam." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  lady  once  more — and 
passed  out  of  the  door.  I  closed  my  instrument,  not 
without  a  sob,  as  I  thought  I  might  never  touch  it 
again,  and  followed  the  reverend  mother. 

It  was  now  the  time  for  dinner,  but  the  bell  had 
not  been  rung.  The  sisters  were  standing  talking  to- 
gether in  excified  groups,  and  many  an  angry  and 
contemptuous  glance  was  cast  at  the  two  traitors. 
The  prioress  at  once  restored  order,  and  bade  the  por- 
tress ring  the  bell  for  dinner.  "  Let  us  have  no  mis- 


Lovedaifs  History. 

order — no  relaxation  of  discipline  on  what  may  per- 
haps be  our  last  day  in  this  blessed  inclosure,"  said 
she.  "  Slandered  we  have  been  and  may  be,  but  let 
us  keep  our  own  consciences  clear  and  unstained. 
That  comfort  no  one  can  take  from  us." 

It  was  a  feast  day,  and  our  cheer  was  better  than 
common,  but  nobody  felt  like  eating.  The  ceremo- 
nies of  the  table  went  on  as  usual,  however,  and  the 
reader's  voice  never  faltered.  After  dinner  came 
recreation,  and  then  the  tongues  were  let  loose  again. 

"  Well,  for  my  part,  I  care  not  what  becomes  of 
me  after  this,"  said  Sister  Sacristine.  "I  have  lived 
too  long." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  sister,"  returned  Mother  Bridget, 
gently.  "  We  cannot  say  what  gracious  purpose  may 
yet  be  in  store  for  us." 

"  Don't  talk  of  gracious  purposes  !  "  .said  the  Sacris- 
tine, angrily.  "  Here  have  I  been  serving  the  blessed 
Magdalene  all  these  years,  wearing  my  fingers  to  the 
bone  cleaning  of  her  shrine  with  wash  leather  and 
hartshorn  salts  and  what  not,  and  this  is  what  I  get 
by  it.  And  to  see  the  holy  relics  carried  off  and 
dispersed  after  all  my  care."  The  poor  old  lady 
burst  into  tears  and  wept  bitterly,  and  more  than  one 
joined  her.  As  for  me,  I  stole  away  to  a  favorite 
place  of  retirement — a  little  shrine  or  oratory  in  \he 
orchard,  half  hidden  by  trees  and  thick,  clustering 
ivy.  Here  I  was  used  to  keep  certain  books  of  my 
own — a  Latin  Imitation  and  Psalter,  and  a  prayer- 
book  which  I  had  brought  from  my  old  home  at 
Peckham  Hall.  I  hoped  for  a  little  solitude  to  collect 
my  thoughts,  but  I  was  disappointed.  As  I  drew 
near,  I  heard  men's  voices  in  the  building,  and  recog- 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  113 

nized  them  for  those  of  the  old  Scotch  gardener  and 
Mr.  Lethbridge,  the  younger  commissioner. 

"  So  this  is  the  jaw-bone  of  St.  Lawrence,  is  it  ?  " 
said  the  latter  ;  and  peeping  through  a  crack,  I  saw 
with  horror  that  he  was  tossing  it  up  and  down  in 
his  hand.  "  It  looks  more  like  a  pig's  jaw  to  me." 

"Maybe,"  answered  Adam.  "Ye'll  be  a  better 
judge  of  that  article  than  me.  It  was  aye  called  the 
jaw  of  St.  Lawrence  in  my  time." 

"What  of  it — suppose  it  was? "said  the  other, 
arrogantly.  "  What  good  could  it  do  any  one  ? 
For  my  part,  I  care  no  more  for  St.  Lawrence's  jaw 
than  for  Mahomet's." 

"I  would  na  speak  scornfully  of  the  jaw  of  Ma- 
homet gin  I  were  talking  to  a  Turk,"  retorted  Adam. 
"I  might  argue  wi'  him,  gin  I  thought  it  would  be  to 
edification,  but  I  would  na  scorn  at  him.  I  would 
think  it  ill  manners." 

For  all  answer,  Mr.  Lethbridge  tossed  the  relic 
from  him,  and  ordered  the  gardener  to  show  him  the 
rest  of  the  grounds.  When  they  were  gone,  I  en- 
tered the  chapel,  and  having  gathered  my  books  to- 
gether, I  picked  up  the  jaw  of  St.  Lawrence,  which 
certainly  had  an  odd  shape  for  a  man's,  wiped  the 
dust  from  it,  and  laid  it  back  in  its  place.  Then,  a 
sudden  thought  striking  me,  I  dug  a  hole  in  the 
earth,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  honeysuckle,  and 
buried  it;  and  there  it  may"be  now,  for  aught  I  know. 

Our  services  went  on  as  usual  during  the  day — the 
last  day,  perhaps,  they  would  ever  be  performed  in 
those  walls  which  had  heard  prayers  and  chants  for  so 
many  hundred  years.  It  was  touching  to  see  how 
punctiliously  almost  all  the  sisters  performed  every 


114  Loveday's  History. 

duty,  even  the  smallest.  There  were  exceptions,  how- 
ever. As  I  said,  we  had  two  or  three  who  had  no 
vocation  whatever,  and  they  tried  to  take  liberties, 
and  were  not  ashamed  to  exchange  mocking  glances 
and  whispers,  even  in  the  hour  of  mediation.  No- 
body took  any  notice  of  them,  however,  except  to 
draw  away  when  they  came  near  as  if  they  had  the 
pestilence.  I  remember  Sister  Regina  took  hold  of 
the  sleeve  of  Sister  Anne's  habit  to  draw  her  atten- 
tion to  something,  she  being  a  little  deaf,  whereupon 
the  old  lady,  having  her  scissors  in  her  hand,  deliber- 
ately cut  out  the  place  Regina  had  touched  and  tram- 
pled it  under  her  feet.  It  was  not  a  very  Christian 
act,  perhaps,  but  we  were  all  glad  of  it.  Sister  Re- 
gina did  have  the  grace  to  look  abashed  for  a  moment, 
the  more  that  she  had  always  been  rather  a  favorite 
with  Sister  Anne. 

That  evening,  just  before  bed-time,  Sister  Sacris- 
tine  met  me  in  the  gallery  and  drew  me  aside  into  the 
sacristy,  and  then  into  a  little  inner  vaulted  room 
where  our  most  valuable  relics  were  stored,  when  not 
exposed  to  the  adoration  of  the  faithful.  The  pre- 
cious shrines  which  were  used  at  these  times  were  kept 
in  another  place,  whereof  the  key  was  already  in  the 
hands  of  the  commissioners.  Shutting  the  door,  and 
opening  a  dark  lantern  which  she  carried,  she  whis- 
pered in  my  ear  : 

"  Loveday,  you  are  a  brave  girl.  I  remember  how 
you  faced  the  bull  that  day  he  got  out.  Will  you 
help  me  to  save  our  most  precious  relic  from  profana- 
tion?" 

"  If  I  can  !  "  said  I,  doubtfully.  "  But  what  is  it 
you  want  to  do  ?  " 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  115 

She  glanced  round,  and  then  whispered  in  ray  ear : 

"  I  want  to  let  out  the  Virgin's  smoke.  But  the 
stopper  is  too  stiff  for  my  fingers,  and  I  want  you  to 
open  it  and  let  the  smoke  out.  Then  we  can  leave  the 
bottle  as  we  found  it !  " 

Now  this  bottle  of  smoke  from  the  Blessed  Mother's 
hearth  at  Bethlehem  was,  indeed,  our  most  precious 
relic,  and  was  looked  upon  with  awful  reverence. 
I  fully  sympathized  with  Sister  Sacristine's  desire  to 
save  it  from  profanation,  but  I  was  rather  scared  at 
the  idea  of  touching  it,  not  knowing  exactly  what  it 
might  do  if  it  got  out. 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  safe  ?  "  I  asked.  "  You 
know  how  when  the  over-curious  priest  opened  the 
vial  to  smell  of  it,  a  huge  volume  of  black  smoke 
issued  from  it  and  blasted  him  as  by  lightning." 

"  Yes,  but  that  was  different.  His  was  a  profane 
motive,  and  ours  is  a  devout  one.  Oh,  Loveday,  do 
help  me.  I  can't  endure  to  think  of  the  blessed 
smoke  in  that  wretch's  hands,  and,  besides,  who  can 
tell  what  it  might  do." 

"I  wish  it  would  smother  him  and  Father  Simon 
both  !  "  said  I,  spitefully,  "  and  Perpetua  and  Regina 
as  well." 

"  Oh,  my  child,  we  must  forgive  our  persecutors, 
you  know,  and  I  do  try.  But  you  will  help  me,  won't 
you,  and  I  will  pray  for  you  all  my  life." 

"  Yes,  I  will  help  you,"  I  said.  "  What  do  you  wish 
me  to  do  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  good  girl.  May  all  the  saints  and  an- 
gels have  you  in  their  keeping."  As  she  spoke  she 
took  from  a  box  a  little  bottle  of  greenish  material, 
covered  with  bright  flowers  somewhat  raised.  It  had 


116  Lov  eddy's  History. 

a  stopper  and  cap  of  gold,  very  curiously  wrought,  with 
a  hasp  or  clasp.  I  suppose  no  young  person  who  has 
grown  up  under  the  present  state  of  things,  can  guess 
the  profound  awe  with  which  I  received  the  little  ves- 
sel into  my  hand.  We  both  kissed  it  reverently,  and 
then  with  some  trouble  I  loosed  the  hasp  and  took 
out  the  stopper,  while  wre  both  fell  on  our  knees.  Our 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  precious  bottle  to  await  what- 
ever might  happen.  But  the  surprising  thing  was, 
that  nothing  happened  at  all.  The  little  vessel  lay 
upon  its  side  in  my  hand  as  innocent  and  pretty  as  a 
maids  fairing,  but  there  wras  no  smoke — not  even  a 
smell  of  burning. 

"  Alas !  alas  !  "  sobbed  Sister  Sacristine,  "  the 
Holy  Mother  has  already  withdrawn  from  this  house 
and  taken  her  smoke  with  her  !  The  glory  has 
departed.  Alas  !  alas  for  us  !  Our  Holy  Mother 
has  been  offended  and  has  withdrawn  her  protection 
from  these  walls.  I  fear  my  sins  have  helped  to 
draw  this  judgment  on  us.  Mea  culpa !  mea 
culpa  ! " 

For  myself,  I  confess  I  had  a  different  feeling.  I 
could  not  see  what  the  Blessed  Virgin  should 
want  with  her  smoke  if  she  had  gone  away.  Sister 
Sacristine's  face  being  buried  in  her  robe,  I  ventured 
to  turn  the  mouth  of  the  bottle  to  the  light  and 
even  to  smell  of  it.  The  inside  was  quite  white  and 
clean,  and  had  a  faint  odor  of  musk.  (Years  after- 
ward I  found  this  very  bottle,  minus  the  gold  orna- 
ments, at  a  pawn  shop  in  London  and  bought  it  for  a 
trifle.  My  son  says  it  is  one  of  the  little  things  they 
make  in  China  by  the  thousand  and  sell  for  a  few 
pence.  It  had  been  in  possession  of  our  house  for 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  117 

a  very  long  time,  and  was  no  doubt  brought  from  the 
East  by  some  pilgrim.) 

"  Dear  sister,  do  not  cry  so,"  said  I,  at  last.  "  Per- 
haps Our  Lady  has  herself  taken  away  this  precious 
relic  that  it  might  not  be  profaned." 

"  You  don't  think  it  is  a  miracle,  do  you  ?  "  asked 
the  sister,  brightening  up. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  I  answered. 

"  Dear  Sister  Postulant,  how  clever  you  are,"  said 
the  old  lady,  wiping  her  eyes;  "I  should  not  have 
thought  of  that?  Oh, if  you  could  only  take  the  veil 
here,  you  would  be  Superior  before  you  were  thirty. 
But,  ah  me  !  nobody  will  ever  put  on  the  blessed  veil 
in  this  house  again." 

"Don't  cry  any  more,  dear  sister,"  said  I;  "and  do 
not  let  us  stay  any  longer  in  this  damp  place;  you 
will  have  the  rheumatism  again,  and  besides,  the  bell 
will  ring  in  a  minute  and  we  ought  to  be  in  our 
cells." 

With  much  ado,  I  got  her  away  and  helped  her  to 
bed,  for  she  was  very  feeble.  I  could  not  help  won- 
dering what  would  become  of  her.  She  had  come 
from  a  distant  part  of  the  country  and  had  no  living 
relations  that  she  knew  of,  and  she  was  growing 
infirm  and  rather  childish. 

It  was  our  custom  to  assemble  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
community  room,  to  give  the  reverend  mother  an 
account  of  the  work  we  had  done  and  the  books  we 
had  read  the  day  before.  When  we  were  all  together 
the  prioress  told  us  the  substance  of  our  visitor's  let- 
ter. It  simply  amounted  to  this,  that  there  was  no 
use  in  resistance,  since  it  would  only  exasperate  the 
king  and  his  minister.  The  commissioners  had  or- 


118  Loveday^s  History. 

ders  to  turn  us  all  out  of  doors  without  ceremony  in 
such  a  case  ;  whereas  by  giving  way  at  once,  we 
might  be  allowed  to  remain  in  our  old  home  a  few 
days,  till  we  could  provide  ourselves  with  some  other 
shelter.  (He  did  not  say  how  or  where  this  provision 
was  to  be  made.)  If  there  was  any  sin  in  the  case, 
which  he  did  not  think,  he  would  give  a  full  absolu- 
tion. The  whole  might  as  well  have  been  put  into 
one  sentence  :  "  You  will  have  to  go,  so  you  may 
as  well  go  quietly." 

"It  seems  we  have  no  choice  and  nothing  to  do," 
said  Mother  Joanna.  "  Nothing  to  do  but  to  submit 
to  the  hand  of  violence,  committing  our  cause  to 
Him  who  judgeth  righteously.  As  to  those  who  for 
their  own  ends  have  slandered  and  belied  this  house," 
she  added,  "  let  them  beware.  There  was  pardon  for 
Peter,  who  denied  his  Lord,  for  Thomas  who  doubted, 
and  for  the  rest  who  forsook  him.  It  was  only  Judas, 
who  sold  him,  of  whom  it  was  said:  'It  were  better 
for  that  man  if  he  had  never  been  born  ! ' ' 

The  lady  said  these  solemn  words  in  a  tone  of 
sorrow  and  reproach  which  might  have  moved  a 
heart  of  stone,  but  I  think  that  Perpetua  had  not 
so  much  as  that.  But  Sister  Regina,  who  was  much 
younger  and  more  foolish  than  wicked — I  do  think 
most  of  the  mischief  in  the  world  is  done  by  fools 
— burst  into  tears,  and  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  she  fell  on  her  knees  at  the  mother's  feet, 
kissed  the  floor  and  entreated  for  pardon." 

"  I  forgive  you,  my  poor  child,"  said  the  prioress, 
sadly  ;  "  in  my  own  name,  and  those  of  your  mothers 
and  sisters,  I  forgive  you  ;  but  alas  !  your  penitence, 
inestimable  as  it  is  to  yourself,  cannot  undo  what  you 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  119 

have  done.  My  mothers  and  sisters,  is  it  your 
will  that  I  act  according  to  the  terms  of  this  letter  ?  " 

The  asking  was  only  a  form,  for  there  was  clearly 
nothing  else  to  be  done.  Accordingly,  when  we  were 
again  assembled  in  the  choir  at  nine  o'clock,  the 
prioress  formally  surrendered  the  keys,  saying  that 
she  did  so  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  our  visitor, 
and  praying  only  for  a  few  days'  grace,  that  the  sisters 
might  be  able  to  make  some  provision  for  themselves. 

"  Surely,"  said  Doctor  Willard,  the  elder  gentle- 
man, "  it  were  hard  to  refuse  so  small  a  boon  as  that." 

"  I  thank  you.,  sir,"  said  the  prioress  ;  "  may  you 
also  find  grace  in  your  time  of  utmost  need.  Here, 
then,  are  the  keys  ;  I  put  them  into  your  hands.  For 
the  rest,  I  and  my  poor  children  commit  ourselves 
and  our  cause  to  Heaven,  since  we  have  no  hope  in 
this  world." 

There  was  a  burst  of  sobs  and  tears  from  the 
mothers  and  sisters  at  these  words.  The  prioress 
alone  remained  calm,  though  her  face  was  pale  as  the 
marble  Virgins  above  her  head.  Even  Mr.  Lethbridge 
was  awed  into  silence  for  a  few  minutes  by  the  dig- 
nity  of  her  manner.  "  One  word  more  I  must  say," 
added  the  prioress ;  "  as  for  the  bruits  which  you 
say  have  come  to  your  ears  touching  scandals  in 
this  house,  I  pronounce  them  utterly  false,  slander- 
ous* and  wicked.  During  the  twenty  years  that  I 
have  been  assistant  within  these  walls,  there  has  been 
but  one  case  of  scandal,  and  that  was  simply  an  elope- 
ment, which  happened  some  eight  years  ago.  For  the 
rest,  I  defy  any  one  but  the  most  hardened  liar  and 
slanderer  to  say  aught  against  the  fair  fame  of  these 
my  dear  children," 


120  Tjovedai/s  History. 

Mr.  Lethbridgo  openly  exchanged  glances  with 
Sister  Perpetua,  but  Sister  Regina  kept  her  eyes 
steadfastly  fixed  upon  the  ground,  while  her  face 
flamed  with  blushes. 

"  Since  you  have  resigned  the  house,  madam,  there 
is  no  need  to  enter  into  that  matter,"  said  Dr.  Willard, 
repressing  his  colleague,  who  was  about  to  speak. 
"  For  myself,  I  do  not  believe  these  tales  to  be  any 
thing  but  the  outcome  of  private  malice  and  revenge, 
and  dictated  by  the  meanest  motive." 

It  was  now  Sister  Perpetua's  turn  to  redden. 

"  You  go  too  far,  Dr.  Willard,"  said  Mr.  Lethbridge. 
"  Remember,  sir,  that  I  am  joined  with  you  in  this 
commission." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  what  is  due  either  to  you 
or  myself,"  said  Doctor  Willard,  calmly.  "  Madam, 
we  will  now  excuse  your  attendance  upon  what  must 
needs  be  painful  to  you.  You  can  keep  possession  of 
your  own  apartments  and  those  of  the  ladies,  only 
they  must  be  searched  to  see  that  no  treasure  is  con- 
cealed, as  has  been  the  case  in  other  places." 

He  bowed,  as  if  in  dismissal,  and  we  left  the  choir 
in  our  order  of  procession  for  the  last  time. 

What  a  day  that  was.  The  prioress  bade  all  those 
who  still  acknowledged  her  authority,  which  were  all 
but  three  or  four,  to  gather  together  such  little  mat- 
ters as  they  were  allowed  to  carry  away  with  tUem, 
and  then  to  resort  to  the  community  room,  where  they 
were  to  occupy  themselves  in  reading  and  prayer,  and 
such  needlework  as  was  necessary.  She  warned  us 
against  concealing  any  thing  of  value,  as  it  would 
only  bring  us  and  herself  into  trouble.  Our  little 
packets  were  soon  made  up,  and  we  gathered  together, 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  121 

a  sad  and  sorrowing  family.  Only  Sister  Perpet'ua, 
and  one  or  two  like  her,  openly  threw  off  all  alle- 
giance, put  on,  at  the  first  possible  minute,  the  secular 
dresses  provided,  and  went  roaming  all  about  the 
place,  talking  with  the  comers  and  goers  who  were 
now  profaning  our  sacred  inclosure.  For,  finding  the 
great  gates  open,  which  they  had  always  seen  locked 
and  barred,  the  people  of  the  neighboring  hamlet,  and 
from  the  village  of  Dartford,  were  ready  enough  to 
gratify  their  curiosity,  as  perhaps  was  only  natural. 
Some  were  kind  and  feeling  ;  others  openly  jeered  at 
our  misfortunes,  and  rejoiced  at  our  downfall ;  and 
among  these  last  were  several  mendicants,  who  had 
had  their  living  from  our  daily  doles.  In  truth,  this 
daily  almsgiving  at  the  gates  of  these  religious  houses, 
brought  any  thing  but  respectable  people  about  them. 
"  Yes,  give  us  the  broken  pieces  and  the  old  clothes, 
while  you  eat  white  bread  and  drink  wine,  will  you  ?  " 
mumbled  one  old  woman,  for  whom  I  had  myself  made 
a  new  flannel  petticoat  and  serge  kirtle  only  a  week 
before.  "  We  shall  see  who  will  have  the  old  clothes 
and  the  broken  bits  now." 

"  You  wont,  that's  certain,  and  glad  I  am,  you  un- 
grateful old  beldam,"  said  a  decent-looking  woman, 
who  was  making  her  way  through  the  crowd  with 
a  basket  on  her  arm.  "  Who  do  you  think  will  feed 
you,  ungrateful  wretches  that  you  are,  when  the  ladies 
are  gone  ?  Will  the  king,  or  the  great  lord  or  gentle- 
man who  gets  the  place,  do  ought  for  such  as  you,  think 
you  ?  No,  indeed  ;  not  even  broken  crusts  will  you 
get,  much  less  such  an  outfit  as  was  given  you  last 
week."  Then,  catching  sight  of  me,  for  I  had  come 
out  upon  some  errand,  I  forget  what,  she  continued: 


122  Loveday^s  History. 

"  Young  lady,  may  I  ask  if  Sister  Elizabeth  is  still 
living — she  who  used  to  teach  in  the  school?" 

"  Oh,  you  mean  sho  who  is  now  the  Sacristine  ?  " 
said  I,  after  a  moment's  thought,  for  I  had  never  heard 
her  called  by  that  name  more  than  once  or  twice. 
"  Yes,  she  is  living,  but  quite  infirm." 

"  Poor  heart,  and  to  be  turned  out  in  her  old  age — 
but  that  she  shall  not  be,  so  long  as  Hester  Lee  has 
a  roof  over  mun's  head — that  she  shan't ! "  said  the 
good  woman.  "  Could  'ee  bring  me  to  speak  with 
her,  my  lamb  ?  " 

"Come  with  me,"  said  I,  rejoicing  at  her  words,  for 
I  had  been  very  unhappy  about  the  poor  old  sister.  I 
led  the  way  to  a  little  parlor,  and  the  prioress  passing 
at  the  moment  I  told  her  the  woman's  errand. 

"  I  am  only  a  mariner's  wife,  keeping  a  shop  for 
small  wares  in  Dartford,  madam,"  said  the  woman,  in 
answer  to  the  reverend  mother's  question,  "  but  I  have 
enough  and  to  spare.  I  well  remember  the  lady's 
goodness  to  me,  a  poor  orphan  maid,  among  people 
whose  very  tongue  was  strange  to  me,  and  who  never 
had  a  kind  word  to  sweeten  the  bread  they  grudged 
to  their  brother's  orphan.  Ah,  madam,  strange  bread 
is  bitter  enough  to  those  who  have  to  eat  it,  without 
salting  it  with  cold  looks  and  harsh  constructions." 

"  Very  true,  my  daughter,"  said  the  prioress  ;  and 
she  sighed.  Poor  lady,  she  was  no  doubt  thinking 
how  soon  she  might  have  to  eat  that  salt  and  bitter 
bread  herself. 

"  And  so,  madam,  by  your  leave,  I  have  come  to 
ask  the  old  lady  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  days  under 
my  roof,  and  she  shall  be  as  welcome  as  flowers  in 
May,  and  so  shall  you  yourself,  madam,  if  you  would 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  123 

honor  me  so  far.  I  have  a  fine  upper  chamber,  where 
you  can  be  as  secluded  as  you  will,  until  you  can  make 
some  arrangement  more  suited  to  your  quality.  Alas, 
madam,  what  have  I  done  ?  " 

For  our  poor  mother,  who  had  not  been  seen  to  shed 
a  tear  in  all  our  troubles,  now  burst  into  a  passion  of 
weeping  such  as  I  hardly  ever  saw,  and  all  the  more 
startling  in  one  usually  so  calm. 

"  You  have  done  nothing  but  what  is  good  and 
right,"  I  whispered,  mine  own  eyes  overflowing.  "The 
dear  mother  will  be  better  for  this  relief." 

Sister  Regina  who,  ever  since  the  morning,  had  fol- 
lowed the  prioress  round  like  a  little  dog  which  has 
displeased  his  master  and  wishes  to  make  amends, 
darted  away,  and  in  a  minute  returned  with  a  glass  of 
fair  water  and  a  smelling-bottle.  The  prioress  took 
the  water  and  thanked  her  ;  whereat  Regina  burst  out 
blubbering  like  a  great  schoolboy,  and  retired  into  a 
corner  to  sob  and  sniff  at  her  ease. 

"  *  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed,  but  where  are  the 
nine  ? ' "  said  our  mother,  recovering  herself,  and 
smiling  sadly.  " '  There  are  not  found  that  returned 
again  to  give  God  praise,  save  this  stranger.'  I  shall 
most  certainly  advise  Sister  Elizabeth  to  accept  your 
hospitality.  As  for  myself,  I  am  provided  for,  since 
my  brother  will  gladly  give  me  a  home,  and  also  a 
shelter  to  this  young  lady  till  she  can  hear  from  her 
friends.  I  will  call  the  sister." 

Sister  Sacristine  had  shut  herself  in  her  cell,  after 
giving  up  her  keys,  and  the  prioress  went  herself  to 
seek  her,  followed  as  before  by  Sister  Regina.  When 
she  had  departed,  Dame  Lee  drew  near  to  me,  and 
said,  in  an  awe-struck  whisper: 


124  Loveday's  History. 

"  Mistress,  does  the  lady  profess  the  new  religion  ?  " 

"No — at  least   I  suppose   not,"   I   answered,  sur- 
prised ;  "  why  should  you  think  so  ?  " 
•     "  Because  she  repeated  those  words.    They  are  from 
the  English  Bible." 

I  remembered,  all  at  once,  the  great  Bible  which  had 
been  sent  down  for  the  church,  and  which  had  been 
removed,  as  the  prioress  had  said,  to  a  place  of  safety. 
Was  it  possible  she  could  have  been  reading  it  all  this 
time  ?  But  this  was  no  time  to  discuss  so  dangerous 
a  subject,  and  besides,  I  wanted  to  talk  of  something 
else.  There  was  that  in  Hester  Lee's  tone  and  accent 
which  were  strangely  familiar — something  which  took 
me  back  to  very  early  days,  before  I  went  to  Peckham 
Hall. 

"  What  part  of  the  country  did  you  come  from, 
dame  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Me,  my  lamb,  I  be  from  Devon — up  Clovally  way— 
I  be,  and  so  was  my  father,  rest  his  soul.  Ees,  I  be 
from  Devon." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  I  answered,  feeling  somehow  as  if 
I  had  found  a  friend,  "  though  'tis  many  a  long  year 
since  I  saw  the  place.  My  father  owned  Watcombe 
Farm." 

Dame  Hester  knew  the  farm,  and  was  delighted  to 
meet  a  countrywoman.  In  the  midst  of  our  colloquy, 
the  prioress  returned,  followed  by  Sister 'Sacristine 
in  the  secular  dress  which  had  been  provided  for  each 
of  us,  and  very  funny  she  looked  in  it.  She  carried  a 
bundle  in  her  hand. 

"Yes,  I  will  go  with  you,  Hester,  since  you  are  so 
good  as  to  ask  me,"  said  she.  "  You  were  always  a 
towardly  child,  and  learned  to  do  white  seam  quicker 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  125 

than  any  girl  I  ever  saw.  Yes,  I  will  go,  and  as  soon 
as  you  please  ;  for  I  can't  endure  to  see  the  way  they 
are  stripping  the  church." 

"  We  had  best  make  our  way  home  at  once,"  said 
.Dame  Hester.  "  I  have  an  easy,  sure-footed  donkey 
at  the  gate  for  the  lady.  And  you,  madam — ' 

"  I  thank  you,  Dame  Hester,  but  I  must  stay  till  all 
is  over,"  said  the  prioress.  "  You  are  a  sailor's  wife 
(she  had  told  us  as  much),  and  you  know  that  the 
captain  should  be  the  last  in  the  sinking  ship." 

"  And  that  is  true,  madam,  and  what  my  husband 
always  says.  Well,  then,  we  will  bid  farewell.  Come, 
good  mother,  we  will  soon  have  you  in  safety." 

They  went  away,  and  I  never  saw  the  sister  again. 
She  did  not  live  very  long,  but  passed  her  days  in 
great  peace  under  the  roof  of  Jonas  and  Hester  Lee, 
who  tended  her  like  an  honored  parent,  though  they 
had  plenty  of  scoffs  and  fault-findings  from  Hester's 
kindred,  who  had  their  eyes  on  the  savings  of  the 
childless  couple. 

As  I  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  the  prioress  de- 
tained me,  sending  Regina  on  some  errand  to  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  house.  I  was  glad  of  that,  for  I  was 
still  very  bitter  against  her,  and  believed  her  close 
attendance  on  the  reverend  mother  to  be  that  of  a 
spy,  in  which  belief  I  now  think  I  did  her  injustice. 
She  was  simply  one  of  those  weak  fools  who  are 
ready  to  be  led  by  any  one  that  will  take  the  trouble 
— unless  it  be  some  one  who  has  the  right  to  govern 
them,  and  then  they  can  be  obstinate  enough. 

"  Loveday,  I  have  something  here  which  belongs 
to  you,"  said  she.  As  she  spoke,  she  produced  a 
packet  of  some  size  from  her  pocket,  and  with  a 


126  Loveclay^s  History. 

great  throb,  I  recognized  my  uncle's  handwriting  on 
the  outside. 

"  These  are  letters  from  your  uncle  and  his  family, 
which  have  come  from  time  to  time  for  the  last  six 
or  seven  years,"  said  she.  "  There  is  no  reason  now 
why  you  should  not  have  them." 

"  And  why  did  I  not  have  them  before  ?"  was  the 
hot  question  which  rose  to  my  lips.  The  habit  of 
discipline  was  strong  within  me,  and  I  did  not  ask  it; 
but  the  prioress  answered  as  if  I  had  spoken. 

"  Why  were  they  not  given  to  you  ?  Because  it 
was  not  thought  best.  It  was  the  desire  of  my  Lady 
Peckham,  who  was  your  legal  guardian,  that  you 
should  make  this  house  your  home,  and  be  professed 
here.  We  saw  that  every  letter  you  had  from  your 
uncle's  family  disturbed  your  mind  and  made  you 
homesick  "  (that  was  true  enough),  "  and  therefore 
we  thought  it  best  to  break  off  all  such  intercourse. 
My  child,  I  see  that  you  are  thinking  this  very  hard, 
but  you  must  remember  that  any  parent  would  have 
exercised  the  same  right  over  a  daughter's  letters. 
Were  it  to  do  again,  I  might  act  differently.  I  see 
many  things  in  a  different  light  from  what  I  did 
when  you  first  came  here.  Here  arc  your  letters. 
You  may  learn  from  them  something  about  the  pres- 
ent state  of  your  uncle's  family,  though  I  think  the 
last  is  two  years  old." 

I  need  not  say  how  eagerly  I  received  the  letters, 
and  how  I  devoured  them.  They  were  written  at 
different  times,  and  all  contained  assurances  of  undy- 
ing regard  from  my  uncle  and  aunt,  with  complaints 
of  my  silence.  The  latest  was  from  my  uncle,  and 
had  been  written  from  a  town  in  Holland,  whither 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  127 

the  family  had  removed.  My  uncle  seemed  to  be  in 
a  lively  vein,  for  he  recalled  various  incidents  of  my 
stay  in  the  family  ;  at  the  close,  were  these  words  : 

"Do  you  remember  the  odd  experiments  I  once 
showed  you  with  chemicals,  whereby  Sambo  was  so 
scared  ?  You  know  there  was  one  in  invisible  ink, 
which  the  good  fellow  thought  was  witchcraft." 

A  sudden  notion  flashed  across  me,  which  made  me 
gather  up  all  my  precious  papers,  and  hasten  to  the 
kitchen.  A  great  fire  was  burning  in  the  fireplace, 
and  the  room  was  empty,  for  dinner  had  long  been 
over.  Quickly  I  held  the  last  dated  letter  to  the  hot 
coals,  and  as  I  had  half  expected,  I  saw  lines  of 
brown  writing  appear  between  the  black.  I  read  as 
follows : 

"  I  have  sure  intelligence  that  within  a  year  or  two 
at  furthest,  the  religious  houses  in  England  will  be 
forced  to  surrender.  Should  such  a  thing  happen, 
do  you  make  your  way  to  London,  to  the  house 
where  I  used  to  live.  Master  John  Davis  and  his 
wife  will  care  for  you,  and  put  you  in  the  way  of 
hearing  from  or  coming  to  me.  My  Lady  Peckham 
being  now  dead,  there  will  be  no  one  to  interfere 
with  you." 

How  welcome  were  these  lines  !  I  had  been  won- 
dering what  would  become  of  me,  and  here  was  a 
home  provided,  if  I  could  but  make  shift  to  reach  it,  and 
that  I  was  determined  to  do  if  I  had  to  beg  my  way. 
I  had  just  come  to  this  resolution  when  I  heard  a 
step  approaching,  and  hastened  to  hide  my  treasure 
in  my  bosom.  I  was  both  angry  and  alarmed,  for 
the  new  comer  was  Mr.  Lethbridge,  for  whom  I  had 
conceived  a  violent  aversion.  I  would  have  passed 


128  Lomday's  History. 

from  the  room,  but  he   barred  the  way   whichever 
way  I  turned. 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  fair  mistress  !  "  said  he. 
"  Let  me  be  your  confessor,  and  tell  me  what  you  are 
doing  here  amid  the  pots  and  pans,  and  whether  you 
are  not  glad  in  your  heart  to  escape  from  this  cage, 
and  spread  your  wings  ?  " 

I  deigned  no  answer  to  the  question,  but  possessed 
myself  of  the  tongs,  as  if  I  would  arrange  the  fire. 

"  What !  will  you  threaten  me  with  the  tongs,  like 
a  second  St.  Dunstan  ?  Nay,  then  I  may  fairly  meet 
force  with  force." 

He  came  forward  and  put  out  his  hand,  as  if  to  lay 
hold  on  me,  and,  blind  with  fear  and  anger,  I  struck  at 
him  with  the  hot  tongs.  He  recoiled  from  the  blow 
and  stumbled  against  a  dresser,  on  which  Sister  Ro- 
sina,  from  mere  force  of  habit,  I  suppose,  had  set  a 
great  earthen  pot  of  soup,  which  she  had  prepared 
beforehand  for  the  morrow's  dinner.  Down  came  the 
pot,  and  souse  went  the  greasy  liquid  over  my  master's 
fine  clothes  and  into  his  hair  and  eyes.  It  had  been 
off  the  fire  too  long,  certainly,  to  scald,  but  it  was 
hot  enough  to  be  very  uncomfortable,  and  another 
hasty  motion  sent  the  dresser  itself,  with  all  its 
trenchers  and  pipkins,  after  the  soup.  Sister  Rosina 
was  always  saying  that  dresser  would  come  down 
some  day,  and  certainly,  it  took  a  good  opportunity 
of  fulfilling  its  destiny.  While  its  victim  was  cursing 
and  swearing  and  roaring  for  help,  I  escaped  from  the 
nearest  door  and  ran  up  a  winding  stair  and  through 
rooms  and  galleries  where  I  had  never  been  before,  to 
the  prioress's  own  room,  bursting  in  upon  her  in  the 
most  unmannerly  fashion. 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  129 

"  Loveday,  is  this  you  ?  Where  do  you  come  from, 
and  what  ails  you?"  asked  the  lady  in  some  dis- 
pleasure. I  mustered  my  breath  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  told  her  what  had  happened,  whereat  she  laughed 
— almost  the  only  time  I  ever  saw  her  do  so,  though  her 
smiles  were  frequent  enough — I  also  showed  her  my 
uncle's  letter,  not  seeing  any  harm  in  so  doing,  as  things 
were  at  that  time. 

"  Ay,  every  one  foresees  the  evil  save  the  one  whom 
it  most  concerns,"  said  she.  "  Do  you  know  aught  of 
this  Master  Davis,  save  what  your  uncle  says  ?  " 

"  I  have  often  seen  him  when  I  lived  in  London, 
reverend  mother.  He  and  his  son  were  great  friends 
of  mine  uncle's.  He  was  well-to-do  at  that  time  and 
in  a  large  way  of  business,  and  a  learned  man — or  so 
I  have  heard  mine  uncle  say." 

"  And  what  say  you  ?  Do  you  incline  to  go  to 
him  ?  " 

I  told  her  frankly,  that  I  did,  since  mine  uncle, 
who  was  my  nearest  relation,  and  therefore  my  natural 
guardian,  desired  me  to  do  so. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  lady.  "  If  I  were  going  to  a 
Louse  of  my  own,  Loveday,  I  would  ask  you  to  go 
with  me,  and  be  as  a  daughter  to  me.  But  my  brother 
hath  a  large  family,  and  I  shall  be  but  a  dependent  my- 
self.  I  had  made  up  ray  mind  to  keep  you  for  a  time 
at  any  rate,  but  perhaps  it  is  as  well.  Ah,  my  poor 
child,  we  who  thought  to  die  in  our  nest,  must  now 
learn  the  truth  of  what  the  Italian  poet  saith  : 

'  How  hard  he  fares 
Who  goeth  up  and  down  another's  stairs.' 

"  But  we  must  have  patience.     '  For  here  we  have 


130  Loveday^s  History. 

no  continuing  city ' — well  for  us  if  we  can  add — '  but 
we  seek  one  to  come — if,  indeed,  we  look  for  a  city 
which  hath  foundations  whose  builder  and  maker  is 
God.'" 

How  I  longed  to  ask  her  if  these  words  were  from 
the  Evangel.  But  even  had  I  dared  to  put  such  a 
question  to  her,  there  was  no  time,  for  the  portress 
came  in  haste  to  say  that  a  stranger  in  the  parlor  de- 
sired to  speak  with  the  lady,  and  with  Mistress  Love- 
day  Corbet,  if  it  might  be  allowed. 

"  Fine  doings,  indeed,  if  strange  men  are  to  come 
to  our  house  and  ask  to  see  a  postulant,  and  that  not 
even  on  a  visiting  day,"  grumbled  the  poor  old  woman. 
"  Fine  doings,  indeed  !  " 

"  You  forget,  my  poor  sister,  that  we  have  no  longer 
a  house,"  said  the  prioress,  sadly.  "  Did  the  gentle- 
man give  his  name  ?  " 

"  That  he  did,  reverend  mother,"  answered  the 
portress.  "  No  man  comes  into  this  house  without 
giving  his  name  while  I  am  portress,  though  I  died 
the  next  minute.  But  this  seems  a  worthy  man  and 
civil — a  merchant  of  London,  I  should  say,  as  mine 
own  honored  father  was,  and  he  was  an  iron-monger 
in  East  Cheepe." 

"  All  this  time  you  are  not  giving  me  the  gentle- 
man's name,"  said  the  prioress,  while  I  was  burning 
with  impatience  I  dared  not  show. 

"I  did  not  say  a  gentleman,  reverend  mother, 
but  a  merchant,  which  he  says  his  name  is  John 
Davis,"  answered  the  portress,  coming  at  last  to  the 
matter  in  hand.  My  heart  sank  for  a  moment,  for 
I  thought  it  might  be  mine  uncle,  but  it  rose  again  as 
I  considered  that  Master  Davis  had  probably  heard 


The  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  131 

of  what  had  befallen  us  and  had  come  to  seek 
for  me. 

So  it  proved.  John  Davis  looked  just  as  I  re- 
membered him,  only  older.  He  was  a  grave  and  rev- 
erend man,  with  silver  hair  and  beard,  a  polished  de- 
meanor, and  more  of  the  scholar  in  his  aspect  than 
one  would  have  expected  of  a  silk  mercer.  But 
Master  Davis  had  dealt  in  far  other  wares  than  silks 
and  damask  in  his  day,  and  had  made  his  profit  of 
them  as  well. 

He  greeted  the  lady  with  as  deep  a  reverence  as 
though  she  had  still  been  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  best 
houses  in  the  country — perhaps  a  little  deeper — and 
proceeded  to  open  his  business.  He  had  heard,  he 
said,  of  the  misfortune  which  had  befallen  the  house, 
in  common  with  many  others,  and  he  had  come  to 
find  the  niece  of  his  old  friend  and  take  her  to  his  own 
home.  Then  turning  his  cap  in  his  hand,  with  some 
appearance  of  embarassment,  he  adverted  to  another 
matter.  Heaven  had  blessed  him,  he  said,  with 
abundant  wealth.  He  should  esteem  it  a  favor  if  the 
lady  would  accept  a  small  sum  at  his  hands  to  help 
those  of  the  family  who  were  without  means  or 
friends. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  said  the  prioress.  "  You 
do  not  then  think  that  all  convents  are  the  sinks  of 
iniquity  that  they  have  been  represented  of  late." 

"  No,  madam  ;  I  believe  they  are  like  all  human  in- 
stitutions, both  good  and  bad  being  mixed  up  hi 
them." 

"  But  you  think,  perhaps,  they  are  as  well  out  of 
the  way." 

"Madam,    you    push    me  to    the   wall,"    said   the 


132  Lovedaifs  History. 

old  man,  raising  his  head  and  regarding  her  with  his 
clear,  steadfast  blue  eyes.  "  Since  I  must  declare 
what  I  think,  I  must  needs  say  that  what  is 
called  the  religious  life,  hath  no  warrant  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. We  find  injunctions  many,  addressed  to  fathers 
and  mothers,  parents  and  children,  husbands  and 
wives,  and  even  to  masters  and  servants,  but  none  to 
monks  and  nuns  ;  a  strange  omission,  methinks,  if 
they  were  expected  to  form  such  a  great  and  import- 
ant part  of  the  church.  I  will  not  say  that  there  hath 
not  been  good  come  out  of  these  institutions  in  times 
past,  but  the  state  of  life  doth  seem  to  me  to  be  un- 
natural, and,  considering  the  depravity  of  the  human 
heart,  likely  to  foster  as  much  evil  as  good.  Never- 
theless, I  would  have  more  charity  and  less  haste  used 
in  the  doing  away  with  them,  and  with  all  my  heart 
do  I  pity  those  poor  ladies,  who,  having  no  home,  are 
turned  out  of  their  only  shelter,  and  would  gladly 
help  them  so  far  as  it  is  in  my  power.  I  crave  par- 
don, madam,  if  I  offend  in  my  speech.  I  am  but  a 
plain  man,  and  since  you  would  have  my  mind,  I 
must  needs  speak  plainly." 

"  You  give  no  offense,  sir,"  answered  the  lady  ;  and 
the  same  odd  little  half -smile  hovered  about  her  lips 
that  I  had  seen  once  or  twice  before.  "  So  you  are  a 
reader  of  the  Evangel?" 

"Ay,  madam,  the  king's  grace  now  permits  per- 
sons of  my  degree  to  read  it  openly." 

"And  is  it  your  will,  Loveday,  to  go  with  this 
worthy  man?" 

"  Yes,  reverend  mother,  since  mine  uncle  commands 
it,"  said  I,  marveling  at  the  question  ;  for  when 
Master  Davis  spoke  so  plainly,  and,  above  all,  when  he 


T/ie  Lightning  Strikes  Again.  133 

owned  to  reading  the  Bible,  I  had  expected  nothing 
less  than  a  direct  prohibition. 

"I  believe  you  choose  wisely,"  said  the  reverend 
mother.  "  What  means  have  you  of  carrying  her, 
Master  Davis?" 

"  I  have  brought  a  palfrey  for  her  riding,  madam, 
and  I  thought  if  any  of  the  ladies  wished  to  come  up 
to  London,  they  might  do  so  under  my  escort  and  that 
of  my  servants." 

"  I  will  inquire  about  that.  Meantime,  my  daughter, 
go  and  make  your  preparations." 

My  few  worldly  goods  were  soon  gathered  together 
— very  few  they  were — Mistress  Davis  had  been 
thoughtful  enough  to  send  me  a  riding-dress  and 
mask,  such  as  were  worn  by  people  of  her  quality,  and 
I  was  ready  to  take  leave  of  the  house  where  I  had 
lived  so  long,  and  where  I  had  thought  to  spend  the 
rest  of  my  days.  The  dear  mothers  gave  nie  their 
blessing  and  farewells,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  outside 
the  gate.  I  have  never  seen  the  place  again.  The 
king  kept  it  in  his  own  hands  for  a  time,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, sojourned  there  more  than  once.  After  that,  in 
King  Edward's  reign,  it  was  the  home  of  Lady  Anne 
of  Cleves,  the  King's  divorced  wife  and  adopted  sister. 
Afterward,  Queen  Mary  granted  it  to  some  preaching 
friars,  who  began  a  work  of  restoration  which  they 
had  no  time  to  finish.  Now  it  belongs  to  our  good 
queen. 

To  make  an  end  here  of  the  subject  of  nunneries — 
while  I  think  great  greed,  injustice,  falsehood,  and 
cruelty  were  exercised  in  their  abolition — I  must 
needs  say  the  land  is  well  rid  of  them.  The  secrecy, 
and  the  absolute  rule,  gave  opportunity  to  the  exercise 


134  Lovedat/^s  History. 

of  much  oppression  and  cruelty  on  the  part  of  their 
rulers,  and  the  victims  had  no  redress.  They  were 
made  use  of,  as  I  have  said,  by  people  who  wished  to 
get  rid  of  inconvenient  relations,  and  so  many  persons 
thus  entered,  who  had  no  religious  sentiment  to  sus- 
tain them,  great  disorders  were  likely  to  prevail  (and 
often  did)  among  companies  of  young  persons  with 
no  natural  outlet  for  the  passions  and  affections  which 
God  himself  hath  implanted  in  our  bosoms.  Their  pro- 
miscuous almsgiving  did  more  harm  than  good,  espe- 
cially with  the  cloistered  orders,  who  had  no  means  of 
judging  who  were  worthy  and  who  were  mere  idle  beg- 
gars. Nevertheless,  I  will  always  maintain  that  the 
work  of  suppressing  them  was  prompted  far  more  by 
greed  of  gain  than  by  any  principle  of  right,  and  that 
it  was  carried  on  in  many  cases  with  great  oppression 
and  cruelty,  as  I  have  said.  However,  the  king  was  not, 
after  all,  nearly  so  bad  as  Cardinal  Wolsey,  who  be- 
gan the  work  with  the  full  consent  of  the  pope  him- 
self. The  king  did  grant  pensions  to  the  older  men, 
and  in  some  cases  to  the  women  ;  which  pensions  have 
been  paid  with  tolerable  regularity.*  (Father  Austin 
receives  his,  but  what  ho  does  with  it  I  cannot  say, 
since  he  can  hardly  spend  it  all  in  sweets  for  the  chil- 
dren.) But  the  cardinal  made  no  provision  what- 
ever for  those  he  turned  out.  Many  of  the  younger 
nuns  married,  after  a  while.  (The  king  changed  his 
mind  so  often  about  that  matter  that  it  was  hard  to 
know  what  he  would  or  would  not  have.)  Others 
took  service  in  families,  like  Sister  Regina,  who  got  a 
chambermaid's  place  with  my  Lady  Denny,  and,  I 

*  The  last  of  these  pensioners  died  in  the  fifth  year  of  James 
First.     See  Fuller,  for  a  good  account  of  the  matter. 


Old  Friends  and  New.  135 

believe,  filled  it  fairly  well  for  a  fool.  Some,  but  I 
think  not  many,  went  wholly  to  the  bad  ;  like  Sister 
Perpetua,  who,  to  be  sure,  had  not  far  to  go.  Our 
honored  mother  went  to  her  brother's  house,  and  he 
losing  his  wife  soon  after,  she  staid  to  govern  his 
household,  and  brought  up  a  large  family  of  children 
who  honored  her  as  a  mother.  Mother  Joanna  went 
also  to  her  own  home,  but  she  did  not  live  long.  Of 
the  rest  of  the  family  I  know  nothing,  save  of  old 
Adam,  the  gardener,  who  kept  his  place  through  all 
the  changes,  and  died,  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  in 
the  reign  of  our  present  queen. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OLD    FBIENDS    AND    NEW. 

O  here  I  was  once  more  thrown  upon  the 
world  and  going  over  the  road  I  never 
thought  to  retrace  again.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful spring  day,  with  flowers  abloom  and  birds 
singing  in  every  direction.  As  we  paused  on  the 
top  of  a  rise  of  ground  and  I  looked  back,  I  re- 
membered all  of  a  sudden  that  it  was  from  this  very 
place  that  I  had  first  caught  sight  of  Dartford 
priory.  Now  I  was  leaving  it  behind  me  forever. 
I  turned  and  looked  at  it.  Nothing  was  changed 
outwardly.  The  commissioners  had  ordered  the 
place  cleared,  and  no  one  was  to  be  seen  moving 
save  old  Adam,  who  seemed  to  be  going  about  his 
work  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  believe  the  old 
man  would  have  tied  up  his  vines  and  hoed  his  vege- 
tables to  the  very  last  minute  if  he  had  known  that 
the  day  of  doom  would  come  in  an  hour's  time. 

For  a  few  minutes  I  could  not  forbear  weeping  at 
the  thought  of  leaving  those  with  whom  I  had  lived  so 
long.  I  had  dearly  loved  most  of  the  elders  of  the 
family,  though  I  had  never  formed  any  great  intimacy 
with  those  near  my  own  age  and  standing.  Grievously 
as  I  had  disliked  the  idea  of  going  to  the  house  as  a 


Old  Friends  And  New.  137 

child,  I  had,  upon  the  whole,  been  happy  there.  I 
had  no  deep  religious  feelings  or  principles  at  that 
time,  and  I  had  never  dreamed  of  doubting  what  had 
been  taught  me.  I  had  a  great  desire,  indeed,  to  read 
the  Scriptures  for  myself,  but  it  was  only  the  curiosi- 
ty which  one  has  to  see  a  famous  book  that  one  has 
heard  about.  I  suppose  the  feeling  that  there  was  a 
kind  of  mystery  about  the  matter  might  have  had  its 
effect  in  increasing  that  desire.  Every  one  was  kind 
to  me.  I  had  as  few  childish  troubles  and  suffered  as 
few  corrections  as  fall  to  the  lot  of  most  children.  I 
loved  music  and  I  loved  learning  languages,  and  op- 
portunity had  been  given  me  to  indulge  both  these 
tastes.  Yes,  upon  the  whole,  I  had  been  happy  at 
Dartford. 

"  We  must  not  linger  long,  Mistress  Corbet,  if  we 
would  be  at  home  before  night !  "  said  John  Davis, 
gently.  "  I  blame  not  your  regrets,  but  I  trust  you 
have  yet  much  happiness  and  usefulness  before  you. 
I  believe  you  may  hope  to  serve  God  as  well  in  the 
world  as  in  yonder  walls." 

I  could  not  but  blush  as  I  remembered  that  the 
thought  of  such  service  in  one  place  or  the  other  had 
not  so  much  as  crossed  my  mind.  We  put  our  horses 
in  motion,  and  all  at  once  my  heart  gave  a  great  bound 
of  exultation.  I  was  free  once  more — out  in  the  world, 
with  no  walls  to  confine  my  footsteps  and  shut  in  my 
view.  The  very  sight  of  the  wide  green  fields  and 
pastures,  seemed  to  lift  a  load  from  my  eyes  and  spir- 
its, of  which  I  had  all  the  time  been  dimly  conscious. 
I  looked  with  interest  at  every  hall  and  cottage,  at 
every  woman  whom  I  saw  gathering  of  greens  for 
her  pot,  or  nursing  her  babe  at  her  door,  and  I  would 


138  Loveday^s  History. 

have  liked  to  make  one  in  every  group  of  gossips 
that  I  saw  collected  round  a  well  or  at  a  street  corner. 

But  long  before  night  my  interest  gave  way  to 
utter  weariness,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing  but 
when  we  should  reach  home.  I  had  not  been  on 
horseback  for  many  years,  and  a  ride  of  fifteen 
miles  was  almost  too  much  for  me,  strong  as  I  was. 
We  entered  London  at  last,  and  reached  my  uncle's 
old  house  about  sunset. 

"  Welcome,  Mistress  Corbet,"  said  Master  Davis,  as 
he  lifted  me  from  my  horse.  "  Welcome  to  your  old 
home.  Mistress  Davis  will  strive  to  make  it  as  home- 
like as  the  house  you  have  left." 

Mistress  Davis  herself,  having  heard  of  our  arrival, 
came  forward  and  met  me  with  a  motherly  kiss  as  I 
entered  the  hall  where  I  had  come,  a  tired,  homesick 
child,  eight  years  or  more  before.  As  I  entered  the 
parlor  and  saw  the  old  furniture  in  the  old  accus- 
tomed places,  a  curious  feeling  of  unreality  came  over 
me,  as  though  my  convent  life  had  been  all  a  dream  ; 
and  I  more  than  half  expected  to  see  mine  uncle 
seated  in  his  own  window  and  my  aunt  in  hers,  the 
one  reading  in  his  great  book,  the  other  darning  of 
hosiery,  or  working  at  the  white  seam,  in  which  she 
excelled.  But  the  dream  was  quickly  dispelled  by  the 
voice  of  Mistress  Davis  : 

"  Dear  heart,  and  so  you  have  come  all  the  way 
from  Dartf ord  since  eleven  o'clock.  How  weary  you 
must  be.  You  shall  have  your  supper  directly,  and 
go  to  your  bed,  and  to-morrow  you  will  be  as  fresh 
as  a  daisy.  But  you  will  like  to  wash  before  supper. 
My  dear,  I  have  such  a  poor  head  ;  I  cannot  recall 
your  name  ! " 


Old  Friends  And  New.  139 

"  Loveday  Corbet,  reverend  mother  —  I  mean 
madam,"  I  replied,  confused  at  my  mistake. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  remember,"  said  Mistress  Davis.  "  Phil- 
ippa,  will  you  show  Mistress  Loveday  her  room  ;  and 
when  you  are  ready,  sweet  chick,  come  down  to  the 
dining-room  ;  I  dare  say  you  know  the  way." 

"  Yes,  madam,"  I  answered.  "  If  you  will  kindly 
tell  me  which  room  I  am  to  have,  I  will  find  it  with- 
out troubling  Mrs.  Pliilippa." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  is  no  trouble.  The  front  room 
on  the  third  floor — that  hung  with  the  apostles,  if 
you  remember." 

"  Oh  yes,  madam,  it  is  my  old  room." 

"  Let  me  carry  your  bundle,"  said  she  whom  Mistress 
Davis  had  called  Philippa,  coming  forward  and  taking 
it  from  my  hand.  We  passed  up  the  familiar  stair — 
so  familiar,  yet  so  strange — and  entered  the  very  room 
from  which  I  had  witnessed  Sambo's  recovery  of 
the  stolen  flowers.  It  was  hardly  altered  at  all,  save 
that  the  floor  was  strewn  with  rushes,  a  practice 
which  my  uncle  had  discarded.  The  very  nosegay 
of  flowers  on  the  mantle  might  have  been  the  same, 
only  that  they  were  spring,  instead  of  autumn,  posies. 
A  pretty  gown  and  petticoat  of  dark  blue,  with  a  linen 
hood,  and  other  things  belonging  to  a  young  lady's 
dress,  were  neatly  laid  out  on  the  bed. 

"My  aunt  hath  provided  you  with  a  complete 
change  of  raiment,  you  see  ! "  said  Mrs.  Philippa, 
with  a  kind  of  bitterness  in  her  tone  which  I  did  not 
then  understand. 

"  She  is  very  kind,  indeed,  to  think  of  it,"  said  I, 
and,  indeed,  I  did  feel  it  to  be  a  motherly  and  kind  act, 
which  made  my  heart  warm  toward  the  good  woman. 


140  Loveday's  History. 

"  Oh,  very  !"  answered  Philippa,  in  the  same  odd 
tone.  "  I  will  leave  you  to  dress  and  then,  perhaps, 
you  can  find  your  way  down  by  yourself,  as  you 
know  the  house  so  well." 

"  Certainly,"  I  answered,  feeling  a  little  confused 
and  vexed,  as  well  by  something  in  her  manner  and 
the  sharp  scrutiny  of  her  cold  gray  eyes. 

Not  to  keep  my  hostess  waiting  longer  than  was 
needful,  I  simply  slipped  off  the  riding  gear  which 
I  had  put  on  over  my  gray  novice's  gown,  made  my- 
self as  neat  as  I  could  at  short  notice,  and  went  down 
as  I  had  been  bidden,  to  the  dining-room,  where  I 
found  the  family  already  assembled — there  being 
more  children  than  I  could  reckon  at  one  glance,  all 
healthy  and  happy-looking,  except  Philippa.  We 
took  our  places  at  the  board,  the  youngest  child 
present  said  a  simple  grace,  and  we  all  sat  down. 
The  meal  was  a  plain  one  and  plainly  served,  but  all 
was  good  and  abundant. 

"  You  see  all  our  flock  at  once,  Mrs.  Loveday," 
said  Master  Davis,  "  all,  that  is,  but  my  married  son 
and  daughter,  who  have  homes  of  their  own." 

"  These  young  ones  should  have  been  abed,  I  sup- 
pose," chimed  in  Mistress  Davis,  "  but  they  begged 
to  sit  up  till  their  father  came,  and  I  could  not  refuse 
them  for  once,  poor  hearts.  Folks  say  I  spoil  my 
children  sadly,"  she  added,  whereat  Philippa  gave  a 
scornful  half  smile  ;  "  but  they  are  pretty  good  chil- 
dren, though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't !  " 

"  I  am  sure  they  do  not  look  spoiled,"  said  I,  seeing 
that  I  was  expected  to  speak  ;  and,  indeed,  they  did 
not.  A  prettier,  better  ordered  family  of  children  I 
never  saw.  The  supper  was  good,  as  I  said,  though 


Old  Friends  And  New.  141 

plain,  but  I  was  too  weary  to  eat,  seeing  which,  Mis- 
tress Davis  hastened  the  meal  a  little.  When  all  had 
finished,  she  blew  a  little  whistle  and  made  a  sign  to 
the  elder  boy,  who  brought  a  great  book  from  the  side 
table  and  laid  it  before  his  father,  while  three  or  four 
servants  and  as  many  'prentice  lads  entered  and  sat 
down  at  the  lower  end  of  the  room. 

"  It  is  my  custom,  Mrs.  Loveday,  to  read  a  chapter 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures  to  my  family  night  and  morn- 
ing," said  John  Davis,  removing  his  cap  as  he  spoke, 
"  but  if  you  have  any  scruples  of  conscience  concern- 
ing the  same,  you  have  leave  to  withdraw." 

Philippa  instantly  rose,  crossed  herself  and  looked 
at  me  as  if  expecting  me  to  do  the  same.  But  as  I 
had  no  such  scruple,  and  had  moreover  a  great  curios- 
ity about  the  matter,  I  sat  still,  whereat  she  went 
away,  shutting  the  door  with  something  like  a  slam. 

The  chapter  Master  Davis  read  was  that  one  from 
the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  concerning  the 
beautiful  story  of  the  Shunamite  woman  and 
her  child.  He  then  turned  over  and  read 
about  the  widow's  son  of  Nain,  whom  our  Lord 
brought  again  from  the  dead.  The  reading  finished, 
the  Tvhole  family  joined  in  the  Paternoster,  and  Mas- 
ter Davis  added  a  short  prayer  in  English,  asking  for 
protection  through  the  hours  of  darkness.  The  chil- 
dren and  the  'prentices  (there  were  but  two,  both 
quite  little  lads)  then  kissed  his  hand  and  received  his 
blessing,  and  so  all  parted  for  the  night.  I  cannot 
make  any  one  understand  how  sweet  and  affecting 
was  this  picture  of  family  life  to  me  who  had  not 
seen  it  for  so  long. 

Mistress  Davis  herself  was  so  kind  as  to  see  me  to 


142  Loveday^s  History. 

my  room.  When  there,  she  closed  the  door  and  ad- 
dressed herself  to  me  in  that  same  pretty,  motherly 
way,  yet  not  without  a  dash  of  dignity,  which  had 
made  me  love  her  at  first  sight. 

"  Mrs.  Loveday,  my  dear,  I  have,  as  you  see,  pro- 
vided you  with  apparel  suitable  to  your  degree,  and 
unless  you  make  it  a  matter  of  conscience  (with 
which  I  will  by  no  means  interfere),  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  you  don  it  to-morrow." 

I  told  her  what  was  quite  true,  that  I  had  no  objec. 
tion,  and  that  I  would  have  changed  my  dress  at 
once  but  for  fear  of  keeping  her  waiting.  I  added 
that  the  reverend  prioress  had  counseled  me  to  be 
commanded  and  guided  by  her  in  all  things." 

"  Why,  that  is  well,"  said  Mistress  Davis,  so  evi- 
dently pleased  by  my  ready  compliance  that  I  fancy 
she  had  expected  something  quite  different.  "You 
see,  sweet  chick,  a  conventual  dress  out  of  convent 
walls  doth  draw  on  remark,  which  is  not  pleasant  or 
convenient  for  a  young  lady." 

"  I  can  see  that,  madam  ! "  said  I.  "  I  will  put  on 
the  pretty  gown  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  provide 
me  in  the  morning.  But,  madam,  is  every  one  now 
permitted  to  have  the  Scripture  and  read  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  not  every  one,"  she  answered.  "  Only 
those  above  a  certain  degree  ;  but  we  hope  the  time 
may  come  when  it  will  be  free  to  all.  It  is  a  blessed 
gift,  used  as  it  should  be,  able  to  make  wise  unto  sal- 
vation. Well,  good  night,  and  God  bless  thee." 

She  kissed  my  cheek,  as  she  spoke,  and  I  kissed  her 
hand.  Then,  quickly  undressing  and  saying  my  pray- 
ers, I  lay  down,  and,  despite  the  novelty  of  the  soft 
feather  bed  and  fine  sheets,  smelling  of  lavender,  I 


Old  Friends  And  New.  143 

was  soon  asleep.  I  started  several  times  in  tbe  night 
at  some  noise  in  the  street,  but,  on  the  whole,  I  slept 
well,  and  awoke  refreshed,  bat  at  first  greatly  bewil- 
dered at  the  place  in  which  I  found  myself  and  the 
novelty  of  the  street-cries  outside  which  fell  on  my 
ear,  so  long  used  to  hear  nothing  on  waking  but  the 
song  of  the  early  birds.  I  had  often  dreamed  of 
waking  in  this  very  room,  and  now  the  reality  seemed 
like  a  dream.  At  last  I  roused  myself  thoroughly,  as 
I  heard  the  house  astir.  I  must  needs  confess,  that  it 
was  with  no  small  pleasure  that  I  hung  up  my  gray 
flannel  robe,  and  arrayed  myself  in  the  clean  body- 
linen,  blue  gown,  and  laced- hood  and  partlet ;  nor 
was  it  without  a  sensation  of  gratified  vanity,  that  I 
looked  in  the  glass,  and  saw  that  the  image  reflected 
there  was  a  reasonably  fair  one.  Considering  that  I 
had  not  seen  my  own  visage  for  so  many  years,  I 
might  be  excused  for  lingering  before  it  a  little.  I 
was  at  this  time  about  eighteen,  a  well-grown,  healthy- 
looking  black  *  maid  ;  with  a  dark  clear  skin,  which 
showed  every  change  of  color  ;  coal  black  brows,  and 
dark  eyes  with  long  lashes,  and  very  thick  black  hair, 
crisped  to  the  roots  and  always  wanting  to  stray  into 
rebellious  little  curls  about  my  brow  and  neck.  Wal- 
ter used  say  my  hair  was  never  meant  for  a  nun's 
coif  and  veil.  I  don't  think  I  was  vainer  than  other 
maids,  but  it  is  natural  to  young  things  to  wish  to 
look  well,  and,  certainly,  I  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule. 

I  said  my  prayers,  and  put  my  bed  to  rights,  and 
then  began  looking  about  the  room.     All  was  very 

*  A  black  person  then,  and  long  after,  only  meant  one  with 
black  hair,  not  a  negro. 


144  Loveday^s  History. 

much  as  I  had  left  it ;  so  much  so  that  I  half  expected, 
on  opening  the  garderobe,  to  find  Katherine's  kirtle 
fallen  from  its  nail,  and  Avice's  hanging  primly  in  its 
place.  A  little  door,  which  I  did  not  remember, 
opened  into  a  light  closet,  where  was  a  small  table,  a 
chair  and  hassock,  and  a  couple  of  books.  I  took  up 
the  larger  volume,  and  was  both  delighted  and  sur- 
prised to  find  it  a  copy  of  the  New  Testament.  I 
opened  into  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  but  had  no  time 
t'o  read  more  than  a  few  words  before  a  knock  came 
to  the  door  of  my  bedroom.  I  opened  it,  and  there 
stood  Philippa. 

"  My  aunt  has  sent  me  to  call  you,"  she  began,  and 
then,  with  a  curious  change  of  tone  :  "  So  you  have 
left  off  your  gown  and  veil  already.  Well,  it  must  be 
confessed,  you  have  lost  no  time." 

"  I  have  but  done  as  Mistress  Davis  requested,"  said 
I,  feeling  my  cheek  flame  at  the  tone  of  supercilious 
reproof. 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  obedient,  no  doubt.  I  should 
suppose  that  you  owed  as  much  obedience  to  your 
religious  vows  as  to — however,  that  kind  of  obedience 
is  out  of  fashion  now-a-days." 

"  I  have  never  taken  any  vows,  Mrs.  Philippa,"  I 
answered.  "  And  the  reverend  mother  bade  me  be 
guided  by  Mistress  Davis  in  all  things.  I  suppose 
she  knows  what  is  proper  for  young  maids,  as  we  are, 
better  than  we  can  ourselves." 

"  Oh,  very  well ;  I  did  not  come  to  quarrel  with  you, 
but  to  call  you  to  breakfast." 

She  turned  round  and  I  followed  her,  feeling  dis- 
composed and  uncomfortable.  Mistress  Davis's  moth- 
erly kiss  and  welcome,  however,  soon  restored  me. 


Old  Friends  And  New.  145 

"Why,  this  is  well,"  said  she,  leading  me  to 
her  husband,  who  entered  the  hall  followed  by  a 
younger  man,  also  in  the  grave,  rich  dress  of  a  well- 
to-do  merchant.  Master  Davis  greeted  me  with  a 
kindly  smile  and  blessing,  and  presented  me  to  his 
son  ;  who,  it  seemed,  had  come  to  take  breakfast  with 
his  parents.  I  liked  him  as  well  as  the  other  members 
of  the  family  whom  I  had  seen,  and  was  particularly 
pleased  with  his  deference  to  his  mother.  The  older 
lads  had  already  gore  to  school,  but  a  little  boy 
and  two  pretty  little  girls  sat  down  with  us,  and  I 
learned,  accidentally,  that  the  breakfast-hour  had  been 
deferred  out  of  consideration  for  me,  as  I  was  sup- 
posed to  be  tired  with  my  ride.  But,  indeed,  break- 
fast, which  is  coming  in  many  families  to  be  as  regu- 
lar a  meal  as  dinner  and  supper,  was  little  thought  of 
in  those  days.  The  children  took  a  piece  of  bread 
and  a  draught  of  milk  in  their  hands,  and  their  elders 
were  content  with  a  manchet  and  a  cup  of  small  ale, 
or  mead.  I  hear  that  people  in  London  now  have 
some  trouble  in  getting  good  milk,  but  there  was 
abundance  of  milk-kine  kept  in  the  city  boundaries 
in  my  time. 

When  I  had  drunk  my  basin  of  milk  and  eaten,  I 
know  not  what  dainty  cake  wherewith  Mistress  Davis 
had  provided  me,  Master  Davis  called  me  into  the 
parlor,  saying  he  wished  to  have  some  talk  with  me. 
"So,  Mrs.  Loveday,  I  dare  say  you  are  impatient  to 
hear  somewhat  of  your  uncle's  family,"  said  he  kindly. 
"  I  have  borrowed  an  hour  or  so  from  business  to  talk 
of  your  affairs.  Please  you,  be  seated." 

I  courtesied,  and  took  the  chair  he  set  for  me. 

"  You  will  naturally  wish  to  hear  first  of  my  good 


146  Loveday^s  History. 

friend,  your  uncle's  affairs,"  said  ho,  placing  himself 
in  the  great  chair  where  mine  uncle  used  to  sit.  "  I 
wish,  from  my  heart,  I  could  give  you  later  and  bet- 
ter news  of  him.  The  last  letter  I  had  from  him  was 
written,  almost  two  years  ago,  from  Antwerp.  In  it, 
after  praying  me  to  have  a  care  of  yourself  and  your 
fortunes,  he  gave  me  to  wit,  that  having  trusted  too 
far  a  factor  whom  he  employed,  and  having  lost 
largely  by  him,  he  was  about  removing  to  some  town 
in  Holland,  where  he  hath  had  correspondence,  and 
where  he  hoped  to  retrieve  his  fortunes.  He  was 
somewhat  undecided  where  to  settle,  but  said  he  would 
write  me  when  he  had,  as  he  said,  pitched  his  tent 
once  more.  Since  then,  I  have  not  heard  from  him." 

Here  was  a  fine  downfall  of  all  the  airy  castles  I 
had  been  building  ever  since  I  read  mine  uncle's  last 
letter.  I  bit  my  lip,  and  had  much  ado  not  to  burst 
out  weeping. 

"  Be  not  too  much  cast  down,  dear  maid,"  resumed 
Master  Davis,  marking  my  emotion.  "I  hope  all 
will  yet  prosper  with  your  uncle,  and  that  you  will 
be  able  to  join  him.  I  have  written  again  by  a  sure 
hand  to  a  mutual  friend  in  Antwerp,  and,  besides, 
any  day  may  bring  a  letter  from  your  kinsman. 
Meantime,  rest  assured  that  you  are  most  welcome  to 
a  daughter's  place  in  this  house.  My  good  wife's 
heart  is  large  enough  to  hold  a  dozen  more  like  you, 
besides  our  own  brood,  and  all  our  grandchildren  ;  and 
my  own,  believe  me,  is  not  less  spacious.  Is  not  that 
true,  dame?"  he  added,  appealing  to  his  wife,  who 
had  just  entered.  "  Can  not  your  wdngs  spread  wide 
enough  to  brood  another  chick  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;    half  a  dozen,  if    they  will  but  be 


Old  Friends  And  New.  14? 

peaceable  and  not  peck  one  another,"  answered  the 
good  mistress,  whose  smooth  brow  seemed  a  little 
ruffled,  I  thought.  "I  am  sure  if  Mistress  Corbet 
does  but  turn  out  half  as  towardly  as  she  seems,  it 
will  be  a  pleasure  to  have  her  in  the  house.  But  we 
must  take  some  order  for  her  clothes.  Canst  sew, 
sweet  heart  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  madam  ;  I  can  both  sew  and  knit,"  I 
answered. 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can — the  knitting,  I  mean," 
said  Mistress  Davis.  "  My  sister,  who  is  a  waiting 
gentlewoman  to  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk,  says  her  lady 
knows  the  art,  but  I  have  never  even  seen  it.  Then, 
I  dare  say,  you  will  not  mind  making  your  own 
linen." 

"  Oh,  no,  madam  ;  indeed,  I  shall  like  it,  only — " 

"  Well,  only  what,  chick  ?  " 

"  Only  I  have  none  to  make,"  said  I,  with  the  out- 
spoken bluntness  natural  to  me,  and  which  I  had  never 
unlearned,  even  in  the  convent.  "  I  have  no  money 
to  buy  any,  either,  and  it  seems  hard  that  you,  madam, 
should  provide  it  for  me,  when  you  have  such  a  flock 
of  your  own." 

"  Care  not  for  that,  sweet  heart,"  said  Master  Davis. 
"  Heaven  hath,  as  you  say,  given  us  a  flock,  but  it 
hath  also  given  us  abundance  wherewith  to  maintain 
it." 

"  And  I  dare  say,  you  will  be  able  to  give  me  help 
about  the  ordering  of  the  household  and  the  children," 
added  his  wife,  with  that  quick  consideration  which 
distinguished  her. 

"  I  ohould  like  that,"  said  I.  "  I  might  teach  the 
children  music,  if  you  would.  I  can  play  both  upon 


148  Lovedaifs  History. 

the  lute  and  the  little  and  great  organ,  and  I  can  read 
both  French  and  Latin." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you.  '  Learning  is  light 
luggage,'  my  gaffer  used  to  say.  The  children  go  to 
school  at  present,  but  I  shall  find  a  way  to  make  you 
useful,  never  fear.  Do  you  come  with  me  now,  and 
we  will  see  what  is  most  needed." 

I  followed  her  to  my  own  room,  where  I  found  a 
piece  of  fine  Hollands  and  some  stuffs  for  dresses, 
with  a  piece  of  rich  sober  silk,  laid  out  on  my  bed. 

"  You  see,  chick,  you,  being  a  gentlewoman  born, 
may  wear  silk,  and  even  velvet,  which  we  merchants' 
wives  must  be  content  to  forego,"  said  Mistress  Davis, 
smiling. 

"  But  indeed,  Mistress  Davis,  I  would  rather  not 
wear  silk.  I  would  far  rather  dress  as  you  do,"  said 
I,  earnestly.  "  Silk  attire  is  surely  not  for  one  like 
me,  who  hath  nothing  she  may  call  her  own.  Please 
do  not  ask  me  to  wear  silk." 

"  Well,  well,  it  shall  be  as  you  please.  But,  dear 
love,  do  not  let  the  thought  of  dependence  worry 
you.  Above  all,  let  it  not  embitter  you.  Re- 
member, we  poor  creatures  are  all  dependent  on 
each  other,  first,  and  last  upon  our  Heavenly  Father, 
who  giveth  to  all  his  dear  children  what  He  sees  best 
for  them  in  particular.  Now  let  me  take  your  meas- 
ure, and  then,  when  we  have  some  sewing  ready,  you 
shall  bring  your  work  down  to  the  parlor,  if  you  will." 
Mistress  Davis's  deft  hands  soon  had  some  shifts 
ready  for  the  needle.  I  had  brought  my  working  things 
from  the  convent,  and  I  soon  found  myself  in  the 
very  low  chair  in  the  bow-window,  which  had  been 
mine  so  long  ago.  But  alas,  my  dear  aunt  was  no 


Old  Friends  and  New.  149 

longer  in  her  old  place,  which  was  filled  by  the  much 
less  substantial  form  of  Mistress  Davis,  while  Phil- 
ippa's  somber  face  and  figure  was  but  a  poor  repre- 
sentative of  the  beautiful  twins,  my  cousins. 

I  glanced  at  Philippa,  now  and  again,  as  I  pursued 
my  work,  and  answered  Mistress  Davis's  questions 
about  my  life  in  Dartford.  She  was  a  tall,  well-made 
girl,  and  would  have  been  handsome  but  for  her  for- 
mal manners,  and  the  cold,  and  what  I  may  call  the 
arrogant  expression  of  her  large  gray  blue  eyes,  that 
looked  as  if  she  were  taking  ever  one's  measure  and 
comparing  it  with  some  standard  of  her  own.  She 
was  dressed  in  black,  made  as  nearly  as  might  be  in 
conventual  fashion,  and  wore  conspicuously  at  her 
side  a  long  rosary  with  a  crucifix  attached.  Mistress 
Davis  expressed  a  most  kindly  interest  in  our  poor 
sisters,  and  hoped  they  had  homes  wherein  to  bestow 
themselves.  I  told  her  that  I  knew  some  of  them 
had,  and  mentioned  the  prioress  and  Mother  Joanna. 

"  And  yet  the  change  will  be  very  great  for  them," 
said  she.  "Poor  things,  one  cannot  but  pity  them." 

Philippa  raised  her  head  as  if  to  speak,  but  at  that 
moment  Mistress  Davis  was  called  out  of  the  room, 
and  she  addressed  herself  to  me. 

"  You  seem  to  take  the  change  easily  enough,  and 
even  to  enjoy  it,"  said  she. 

"  Well,  I  do,"  I  answered,  frankly.  "Of  course,  I 
was  sorry  to  leave  my  old  friends,  especially  as  they 
were  in  so  much  trouble,  but  a  convent  life  was  never 
my  choice  for  myself  nor  mine  uncle's  for*  me." 

"  You  had  no  real  vocation,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not ;  and  indeed,  I  hardly  know  what 
it  means,"  I  answered, 


150  Loveday's  History. 

"  ./had  !  "  said  Philippa,  proudly.  "  Jbave  always 
kad  a  vocation,  ever  since  I  was  a  child,  but  my  father 
never  would  consent,  or  Master  Davis  either.  I  have 
money  enough,  however,  and  when  I  am  twenty -two 
it  will  be  all  mine  own.  Then  I  can  do  as  I  like,  and 
I  shall  go  into  a  religious  house  directly." 

"  From  the  way  things  are  going  there  are  not  like 
to  be  many  religious  houses  by  that  time, "  said  I. 

"  There  will  be  convents  enough  abroad  if  not 
here,"  said  Philippa.  "  Besides,  things  may  change 
here." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  I ;  "  but  from  what  I  have 
seen  I  should  think  that  one  might  bo  very  happy  in 
this  house." 

"Happiness  is  not  my  object  !  "  answered  Philippa. 
"  What  Jseek  is  a  life  of  self-denial." 

"And  so  you  mean  to  take  your  own  way  the 
moment  it  is  in  your  power  !  "  I  thought,  but  I  did 
not  say  it.  At  that  moment  Mistress  Davis  returned 
to  the  room,  bringing  with  her  a  pretty,  pleasant-look- 
ing lady  whom  she  presented  to  me  as  her  married 
daughter,  Mistress  Margaret  Hall,  come  to  spend  the 
day  at  home.  I  took  a  fancy  to  her  directly,  and  we 
were  soon  chatting  pleasantly  together.  She  had  some 
lace  work  in  hand  with  which  she  had  got  into  diffi- 
culty, and  I  was  able  to  set  her  right,  having  served 
my  apprenticeship  to  that  kind  of  work  under  Mother 
Joanna.  The  convent  schools  did  have  that  advant- 
age— they  taught  girls  to  use  their  fingers.  Mistress 
Hall  looked  over  with  great  interest  while  I  picked 
out  and  untwisted,  showing  her  where  she  had  gone 
wrong. 

"  Many  thanks,  Mistress  Loveday  !  "  said  she  pleas- 


Old  Friends  And  New.  151 

antly,  when  I  had  restored  the  frame  to  her.     "  You 
have  plenty  of  finger  wit,  I  see." 

"  More  of  finger  wit  than  head  wit,  perhaps  !  "  said 
Philippa,  with  that  kind  of  smile  which  says — "  see 
how  superior  I  am."  "  I  believe  they  do  not  often  go 
together." 

"I  am  not  sure  of  that,"  I  answered.  "Sister 
Cicely,  our  organist,  of  whom  I  learned  music,  was 
the  most  beautiful  seamstress  I  ever  saw,  and  people 
came  from  far  and  near  to  hear  her  playing." 

"  Then  you  play  the  organ  ?  "  said  Margaret,  eager- 
ly ;  and,  as  I  assented,  she  went  on — "  you  must  come 
and  try  my  husband's.  He  bought  it  at  one  of  the 
convents  which  have  been  closed  lately,  and  had  it  set 
up  in  our  house.  You  must  come  and  play  for  us." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so,  "  I  answered — 
whereat  Philippa  said,  with  emphasis  : 

"You  are  very  much  favored,  Mistress  Loveday. 
Cousin  Margaret  Hall  never  asked  me  to  play  for 
her." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  played,"  said  Margaret. 

"  No,  and   you  never  tried  to  find  out.     Oh,  you 

need  not  excuse  yourself.     For  my  part  I  would  not 

have  such  an  instrument  in  my  house — I  should  expect 

it  to  bring  a  curse  upon  me." 

"  It  is  better  in  my  parlor  than  broken  up  for  the 
sake  of  the  lead  ! "  said  Margaret,  rising.  "  Mistress 
Loveday,  would  you  not  like  to  go  over  the  house  ?  " 
I  arose  with  alacrity.  It  was  just  what  I  had  been 
longing  to  do.  Margaret  did  not  ask  Philippa  to  go 
with  us,  for  which  I  was  very  glad.  We  left  her  to 
her  own  meditations,  and  went  first  up  to  the  attic 
from  which  (the  house  being  much  higher  than  its 


152  Loveday^s  History. 

neighbors)  we  had  a  very  nice  view  over  the  city.  I 
looked  at  once  for  the  little,  old  almshouses  where  I 
was  wont  to  go  with  my  aunt  and  cousins,  but  I  could 
not  find  them  at  all. 

"  Where  is  the  green  field  where  the  almshouses 
used  to  stand  ?  "  said  I.  "  I  am  sure  we  used  to  see  it 
from  here." 

"There  is  still  a  bit  of  it  left — yonder  by  that  old 
tree  ! "  answered  Mistress  Hall.  You  may  also  see 
two  or  three  of  the  cottages,  but  no  one  has  been  put 
there  for  a  long  time.  My  husband  heard  that  the 
whole  ground  was  to  be  granted  to  some  great  man 
about  the  court !  " 

"  What  a  shame  !  "  said  I.  Mistress  Hall  put  her 
finger  on  her  lip. 

"  Blame  not  the  king — no,  not  in  thy  bed-chamber  !  " 
said  she.  "  There  are  more  than  you  that  think  so, 
but  no  one  dares  speak  as  things  are  now,  and  it  be- 
hooves us  specially  to  be  careful,  being  always  in  dan- 
ger of  an  attaint  of  heresy." 

"  You  are  of  the  new  religion  then  ?  "  I  ventured  to 
say. 

"Nay,  we  are  of  the  old  religion — as  old  as  the 
Word  of  God  himself,"  said  she  smiling  sweetly. 
"  My  husband,  like  my  father,  reads  the  Holy  Scrip- 
ture in  his  family  every  day.  I  suppose,  dear  maiden 
it  is  new  to  you." 

I  told  her  I  had  never  seen  more  of  it  than  I  had 
read  in  mine  uncle's  great  book  as  a  child,  adding  that 
I  had  been  taught  to  think  it  was  at  the  peril  of  sal. 
vation  that  common,  unlearned  folk  meddled  with  the 
word  of  Scripture,  which  was  the  reason  that  it  was 
kept  in  the  Latin, 


Old  Friends  And  New.  153 

"  The  multitudes  who  followed  our  Lord  on  earth 
and  listened  to  his  blessed  words,  and  the  thousands 
who  heard  the  discourses  of  Saint  Peter  and  the  other 
apostles,  were  doubtless  most  of  them  unlearned  men. 
Yet  our  Lord  and  the  apostles  spoke  to  them  in  what 
was  then  the  vulgar  tongue  ! "  said  Mistress  Hall, 
gently.  "  Did  they  then  put  these  poor  souls  in  peril 
of  their  salvation  ?  And  for  what  was  the  wonderful 
gift  of  tongues  bestowed  upon  the  apostles,  save  that 
the  common  people  where  they  traveled  might  hear, 
each  in  the  tongue  wherein  he  was  born,  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  God  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  that !  "  said  I,  "  and  to  tell  you 
truth,  Mistress  Hall,  I  never  thought  much  about  it." 

"  But  you  will  think,  dear  maiden  ! "  said  she,  with  a 
sweet  eagerness.  "  You  will  read  and  think,  and 
ask  for  aid  and  light  from  above  to  understand." 

I  had  no  time  to  make  any  promise,  for  at  that 
moment  one  of  the  maids  came  to  find  us,  with  a 
message  from  Mistress  Davis,  that  dinner  would  soon 
be  ready.  Mistress  Hall  thanked  her,  and  asked  after 
her  mother. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  seen  you  before,"  said 
I,  as  the  maid  answered  that  her  mother  was  well. 

Cicely  blushed  and  answered  modestly  that  she  re- 
membered me  quite  well,  adding, 

"  But  you  were  a  very  young  lady  then.  Do  you 
remember  the  night  that  you  came  with  your  uncle  to 
Goodman's  farm,  and  the  kind  gentleman  gave  Dame 
Goodman  a  piece  of  silver  and  bade  her  fill  my 
pitcher?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  you  are  little  Cicely  Higgins,"  said  I. 
"  You  went  with  your  mother  to  live  with  John  Blunt 


154  Loveday's  History. 

and  his  wife  at  the  almshouse.  What  has  become  of 
them  ?  " 

"  They  are  both  dead,"  answered  the  maid,  quietly. 
Then  making  a  courtesy,  she  went  away. 

"  That  is  a  nice  girl ;  I  am  glad  she  has  so  good  a 
home,"  said  I. 

"  Yes  ;  any  one  who  lives  with  my  step-dame  has  a 
good  home,"  answered  Mistress  Hall.  "  I  would  all 
knew  it  as  well  as  poor  little  Cicely.  Tell  me,  Mistress 
Loveday,  do  you  think  my  husband  guilty  of  sacrilege 
because  he  bought  a  convent  organ  to  save  it  from 
the  fire  and  the  melting-pot  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  answered.  "  I  only  wish  he 
had  that  one  I  used  to  play  on  at  Dartford." 

"  Sometimes  I  wish  Philippa  could  have  her  way 
and  go  into  a  convent,"  said  Mistress  Hall.  "  Perhaps 
she  would  be  more  content." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing,"  I  answered. 
"  A  month  or  two  under  Mother  Joanna  and  a  few 
times  of  bread  and  water,  and  being  set  to  scour  the 
flags  on  her  hands  and  knees,  would  teach  her  to  keep 
her  tongue  in  better  order." 

"  After  all,  that  would  be  but  an  outward  reforma- 
tion," said  Mistress  Hall,  thoughtfully.  "  It  skills 
not  keeping  silence  when  the  heart  is  full  of  anger 
and  uncharitableness." 

"  Under  your  favor,  I  think  it  skills  a  good 
deal,"  I  could  not  help  saying.  "At  least,  one  does 
not  vex  others,  and  besides,  in  mine  own  case, 
when  I  am  angry,  I  find  the  more  I  say  the  angrier  I 
grow." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right  so  far  as  that  goes," 
answered  Margaret ;  "  but  I  pray  you  have  patience 


Old  Friends  And  New.  155 

with  poor  Philippa.  It  is  hard  for  her  to  have  her 
will  so  constantly  crossed." 

"  She  would  have  it  crossed  with  a  good  crab-tree 
twig  an  she  were  a  pupil  of  our  house  in  Dartford,"  said 
I,  and  there  the  matter  ended  for  the  present.  When  we 
went  down  to  dinner,  we  found  the  party  increased  by 
Master  Hall,  Margeret's  husband,  a  tall,  stout  man, 
big  enough  to  put  his  delicate  little  wife  in  his 
pocket,  and  with  a  face  beaming  with  good-nature, 
which  his  manner  did  not  belie.  The  elder  children 
took  their  dinner  at  the  schools,  which  were  at  some 
distance,  but  the  little  ones  came  to  the  table  and  it 
was  clear  by  their  smiles  and  looks  that  their  big 
brother-in-law  was  a  welcome  guest.  I  was  especially 
pleased  by  the  respectful  affection  which  both  Master 
and  Mistress  Hall  showed  to  their  step-dame  ;  but,  in- 
deed, it  would  be  a  hard  heart  that  did  not  love  Mis- 
tress Davis.  Of  course  I  did  not  speak  before  my 
elders  at  table,  but  I  listened  with  all  my  ears.  I 
found  out  that  Master  Hall  was  a  bookseller  in  St. 
Paul's  Churchyard,  and  had  a  license  to  print  and  sell 
Bibles.  I  gathered  that  he  was  not  as  rich  as  his 
father-in-law,  and  indeed  Mistress  Hall's  dress  was 
plain  compared  to  that  of  her  step-mother,  or  even 
mine  own,  though  it  was  most  becomingly  fancied 
and  as  neat  and  fresh  as  a  daisy.  The  talk  was  most 
interesting  to  me,  running  as  it  did  on  the  sale  and 
use  of  books,  especially  Bibles. 

"The  demand  increases  more  and  more,"  said 
Master  Hall.  "  We  cannot  work  our  presses  fast 
enough  to  supply  it.  But  I  hear  some  new  restriction 
is  to  be  put  upon  the  sale  and  use  of  the  books." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  his  wife.     "I  would 


156  Loveday's  History. 

fain  see  the  time  when  every  plowman  and  shep- 
herd might  have  a  Bible  of  his  own." 

"  That  time  will  surely  come — or  so  I  think,"  re- 
marked her  father,  "  though  perhaps  not  in  our  day. 
But  these  young  ones  may  live  to  see  it." 

"  I  fear,  indeed,  it  will  not  be  in  our  day,"  said  Master 
Hall.  "There  are  those  about  His  Majesty  that 
would  willingly  close,  if  not  burn,  every  English 
Bible  in  the  land." 

"But  not  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,"  said 
Master  Davis. 

"  No  ;  His  Grace  would,  like  my  wife,  put  it  into 
the  hands  of  all,  gentle  or  simple." 

The  talk  then  drifted  away  to  other  matters,  and 
when  we  rose  from  table,  Master  Davis  proposed  we 
should  seek  the  summer-house  in  the  garden. 

"  Do  so,  and  I  will  send  you  wine  and  sweetmeats," 
said  Mistress  Davis.  "Then  you  can  talk  of  your 
business  matters,  and  we  women  will  sit  under  the 
great  apple  tree,  sew  our  seams,  and  talk  of  affairs 
level  with  our  comprehension." 

Wherat  the  men  laughed,  though  I  did  not  see  the 
joke.  Mistress  Davis  asked  me  to  help  her  in  the  or- 
dering of  the  banquet,*  and  I  was  glad  to  do  so.  (I 
never  do  feel  thoroughly  at  home  in  any  house  till  I 
get  into  the  pantry  and  kitchen.)  Margaret  was  busy 
with  the  little  girls,  and  I  saw  them  showing  her  their 
work,  and  the  clothes  they  had  been  making  for  their 
dolls. 

"  Yes,  Joan  and   Nelly  are  quite  happy  now  they 

*  A  banquet  was  what  we  should  now  call  a  dessert  of  fruits 
and  sweetmeats  piled  upon  wooden  trays  and  trimmed  with 
flowers.  It  was  often  set  before  callers. 


Old  Friends  And  New.  157 

can  have  Sister  Margaret  all  to  themselves,"  said 
Dame  Davis. 

"  You  would  never  guess  for  as  simple  as  she  sits 
there,  that  Margaret  can  read  the  New  Testament  in 
the  Greek  tongue,  wherein  it  was  written,  and  correct 
the  press  for  her  husband's  edition  of  Plato  his  Dia- 
logues. Now,  would  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  could  believe  any  thing  that  was  good 
of  Mistress  Hall,"  I  answered  warmly. 

"  And  you  may  well  and  safely  do  so,"  said  her 
step-mother.  "Yes,  that  is  very  pretty,"  as  I 
handed  her  a  dish  of  fruit  I  had  arranged.  "  Believe 
me,  you  cannot  have  a  better  or  safer  friend  than 
Margaret.  With  all  her  learning,  she  is  simple  as  a 
child  and  defers  to  me  as  though  I  were  her  own 
mother.  There,  I  think  that  will  do  nicely.  And 
now  we  will  take  our  own  work  and  sit  down  under 
the  tree,  and  you  will  give  us  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing you  sing,  will  you  not?  I  see  you  have 
brought  your  lute  with  you." 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  do  aught  which  could  please 
my  kind  hostess.  I  do  not  know  when  I  ever  spent  a 
pleasanter  afternoon  than  that.  I  sang  all  the  songs 
I  knew — which  were  not  many — and  then  Margaret 
told  us  some  tales  she  had  read,  and  by  degrees,  I 
know  not  how,  she  gently  led  us  to  serious  talk  upon 
religion  and  kindred  topics. 

"  Oh,  how  I  do  wish  you  knew  our  dear  reverend 
mother,  Mistress  Hall  !  "  I  could  not  help  saying  at 
last  ;  whereat  she  smiled  and  said  : 

"  Why,  do  you  think  we  should  agree  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  would,"  I  answered.  "  You  have 
made  me  think  of  her  so  many  times  this  afternoon." 


158  Loveday^s  History. 

At  this  Philippa,  who  had  sat  by  stiff  and  silent, 
tossed  up  her  chin  and  said  : 

"  She  must  be  a  strange  lady  prioress  if  she  is  like 
Margaret." 

"  How  many  lady  prioresses  did  you  ever  know  ?" 
asked  Mistress  Davis. 

"  Philippa  would  say  I  am  not  like  her  notion  of 
what  a  lady  prioress  should  be,  I  suppose  !  "  said  Mar- 
garet. "But  tell  us  of  this  good  friend  of  yours, 
Mistress  Loveday,  if  you  will.  I  have  always  been 
curious  about  convent  life." 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  begin,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  begin  at  the  beginning  and  tell  us  how  you 
spent  your  day.  What  was  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning  ?  " 

So  I  began  and  told — as  we  say  in  the  west  country 
— for  an  hour.  The  elder  children  were  at  home  by 
this  time,  and  they  also  gathered  round  to  hear. 
When  I  had  finished — 

"  You  seem  to  have  led  quiet,  peaceful  lives  enow," 
observed  Margaret ;  "  but  I  should  think  such  an  un- 
varying life  would  have  been  rather  wearisome,  and 
that  a  person  leading  it  on  for  years  would  be  almost 
childish.  Did  you  never  have  any  study  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  do  my  Latin  lessons  with  poor  Sister 
Denys,  and  afterward  with  Father  Austin,"  said  I ; 
"  but  we  never  read  any  thing  but  the  Imitation  and 
some  lives  of  saints.  I  began  Caesar's  Commentaries 
when  1  studied  with  Father  Austin,  but  I  never  got 
on  very  far." 

"  You  shall  finish  it  with  me  if  you  will,"  said  Mar- 
garet. "  And  we  will  also  have  some  poetry.  Latin 
is  a  noble  tongue." 


Old  Friends  And  New.  159 

"  Yes,  a  tongue  more  fit  for  the  Scriptures  and  the 
church  service  than  common  English  !  "  said  Phil- 
ippa. 

"But  Latin  was  also  the  vulgar  tongue  of  the 
Romans,  wasn't  it,  Sister  Margaret  ?  "  asked  one  of  the 
boys.  "  That  is  the  reason  the  Latin  Bible  is  called 
the  Vulgate,  so  our  master  said.  He  said  St.  Jerome 
put  it  in  Latin  that  every  one  might  read  it." 

"  Yes,  that  is  very  likely,"  answered  Philippa,  con- 
temptuously. "No  doubt  he  knows  all  about  it. 
Latin  is  the  sacred  language  of  the  church,  not  like 
that  profane  Greek  and  Hebrew  which  was  used  only 
by  heathen  and  by  wicked  Jews." 

"But  the  Scripture  was  written  in  Greek  and 
Hebrew  in  the  first  place  ;  was  it  not,  sister  ?  "  asked 
Amyas,  eagerly.  "  I  am  sure  the  master  said  so,  and  I 
suppose  he  is  right.  Do  you  think  you  know  more 
than  our  head-master,  Cousin  Philippa?" 

"  Gently,  gently,  little  brother  ! "  said  Margaret. 
"  Your  master  would  also  tell  you  that  one  may.be 
right  in  a  wrong  way.  *  Do  you  think  you  know  more 
than  so-and-so,'  is  not  very  good  logic,  neither  is  it 
very  good  manners,  especially  when  addressed  to 
one  older  than  yourself." 

At  this  the  lad  blushed  and  hung  down  his  head, 
but  presently  raised  it  and  said  frankly,  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  Cousin  Philippa.  But  was  it  not  so,  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  so  far.  The  Old  Testament 
was  written  in  Hebrew,  as  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  New 
Testament  was  in  the  Greek  tongue.  Scholars  are  now 
beginning  to  give  great  attention  to  the  Hebrew." 

"  Yes,  my  sister  wrote  me  that  His  Grace  of  Suffolk 
gives  some  chaplaincy  or  the  like  to  a  young  man — a 


160  Loveday's  History. 

secular  priest — who  hath  come  up  from  the  west 
country  expressly  to  study  the  Hebrew,"  said  Mistress 
Davis. 

"  I  dare  say  that  might  be  the  same  young  priest 
who  was  in  our  shop  yesterday,"  observed  Margaret. 
"  He  was  a  fair  Grecian  for  one  of  his  years,  and  was 
asking  for  some  one  with  whom  to  learn  Hebrew." 

"  I  wish  I  might  learn  Greek  !  "  said  Amyas. 

"  All  in  good  time  !  "  returned  his  mother.  "  And 
you,  Hal?" 

"  Not  I !  "  answered  Hal,  the  younger  boy.  "  I 
would  rather  be  a  sailor,  and  sail  away  to  the  Indies, 
like  Columbus,  than  to  be  poring  over  little  crooked 
letters,  all  dots  and  spots,  like  those  you  showed  us 
the  other  day,  sister." 

"  Why  that  may  be  in  good  time,  too,"  said  Marga- 
ret. "Who  knows  what  new  lands  you  may  dis- 
cover ?  " 

"  We  shall  all  discover  rheums  and  quacks,*  if  we 
sit  here  much  longer,"  said  Mistress  Davis.  "  Do  you 
not  perceive  how  the  east  wind  hath  come  up  ?  Let 
us  go  into  the  house." 

We  had  several  guests  to  supper.  Young  Master 
Davis  and  his  wife,  a  pretty,  lively  little  body  ;  two 
or  three  grave  merchants,  and  an  elderly  priest,  with 
one  of  the  finest  faces  I  ever  saw — full  of  sweetness 
and  gravity.  I  was  presented  to  him,  and  learned 
that  his  name  was  Hooper.  The  talk  at  table  was 
cheerful  and  pleasant,  at  times  falling  into  a  serious 

*  "  Colds  in  the  head,"  as  we  call  them,  were  rather  new  at 
that  time,  and  were  called  quacks,  hence  the  term  of  quack 
doctors.  Old  fashioned  folks  laid  them  to  the  introduction  of 
chimneys. 


Old  Friends  and  New.  161 

vein,  and  again  full  of  jest  and  humor.  When  the 
meal  was  done,  the  great  Bible  was  again  produced, 
but  this  time  Master  Davis  handed  it  to  Dr.  Hooper. 
He  chose  out  the  twenty-third  Psalm,  and  made  an 
exposition  thereon,  so  sweet  and  tender,  yet  vigorous 
withal,  as  I  think  nothing  could  be  better,  unless  it 
were  the  very  Word  itself.  I  remember,  he  specially 
insisted  on  that  little  word  my. 

"  That  is  the  way  throughout  Scripture,"  said  he. 
"And  so  it  must  ever  be  with  those  who  are  called 
into  the  kingdom.  It  is  and  must  be  my  Shepherd, 
my  King,  our  Father,  our  Saviour.  He  may  be  what 
he  is  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  till  I  can  say  He 
is  mine,  I  am  nothing  the  better." 

After  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  prayed — not  in 
any  form  that  I  had  ever  heard,  but  in  his  own  words, 
and  such  a  prayer  I  never  heard.  It  was  as  though 
his  very  eyes  saw  the  one  to  whom  he  spoke  with  the 
freedom  of  a  loving  and  dutiful  child.  Then  we  all 
repeated  the  Paternoster  in  English,  and  our  guests 
went  away,  the  ladies  giving  me  many  kind  and  press- 
ing invitations  to  visit  them. 

As  I  went  to  my  room  I  met  Philippa,  who  asked 
me  if  I  had  a  book  of  Hours,  such  as  they  used  in  the 
convent.  I  told  her  I  had,  whereat  she  asked  me  to 
lend  it  to  her — adding,  with  her  usual  bitterness  : 

"  I  suppose  you  will  not  care  for  it,  now  that  you 
have  taken  up  with  the  new  lights." 

"  I  have  not  taken  up  with  any  new  lights  that  I 
know  of,"  I  answered.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  easy  to  see.  You  are  quite  carried 
away  with  Mistress  Hall's  sweet  ways  and  flatteries, 
and  she  will  make  you  as  great  a  heretic  as  herself. 


162  Looeday^s  History. 

You  must  needs  stay  to  hear  that  old  apostate  hold 
forth,  to-night.  Oh,  yes  ;  it  is  easy  to  see  which 
way  the  wind  blows,  Mistress  Loveday.  But  there 
is  no  use  in  saying  a  word  in  this  house,  when  even 
that  malapert  Arnyas  is  put  up  to  affront  me,  and 
Mistress  Davis,  my  aunt,  finds  fault  if  I  do  but  put  a 
stitch  awry  in  my  mending.  All  I  can  do  is  to  wait 
with  what  patieii3e  I  can,  till  I  can  go  to  the  convent. 
There  I  shall  find  peace." 

"I  do  not  believe  you  will  find  it  there,  unless  you 
take  it  thither  with  you,"  said  I.  "Arid  I  can  tell 
you  more  than  that,  Philippa.  If  you  had  answered 
the  reverend  mother,  or  even  one  of  the  elder  sisters, 
as  you  did  your  aunt  and  Mistress  Hall  two  or  three 
times  to-day,  you  would  have  been  made  to  kneel  and 
kiss  the  ground,  if,  indeed,  you  had  not  tasted  the 
discipline  of  the  rod.  I  saw  Sister  Blandina  made  to 
clean  the  wash-house  floor  on  her  hands  and  knees  be- 
cause she  gave  mother  assistant  a  pert  answer  about 
some  dusting  she  was  ordered  to  do.  How  would 
you  like  that  ?  You  found  fault  with  your  meat  to- 
day at  table,  and  your  aunt  said  nothing,  only  helped 
you  to  another  bit.  If  you  had  done  that  as  a  novice, 
you  would  have  had  no  more  that  day,  except,  per- 
haps, the  leavings  on  the  sisters'  plates." 

Philippa  looked  rather  blank.  "  But  I  am  going 
into  a  Carthusian  house,"  said  she.  I  could  not  for- 
bear laughing. 

"  Worse  and  worse.  There  you  will  get  no  meat 
at  all,  and  only  fish  on  feast  days.  You  will  have 
no  linen  to  mend,  because  you  will  have  none  to 
wear,  and  so  far  from  speaking  back  as  you  did 
to  Mistress  Davis,  you  will  not  be  permitted  to 


Old  Friends  And  New.  163 

speak  at  all,  save  in  answer  to  a  question  from  your 
superiors." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  heard  all  about  it  from  one  of  our  sisters,  a  very 
nice  woman  who  came  to  our  house  when  her  own  was 
put  down.  She  said  she  never  spoke  during  her  novi- 
tiate, unless  she  were  spoken  to." 

Philippa  pouted  and  patted  her  foot  on  the  floor. 
"  I  believe  you  are  only  trying  to  scare  me,"  said  sho. 

"You  may  ask  any  one  who  knows,"  I  answered. 
"Sister  Dominica  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  our 
easy  ways  at  first,  and  yet  our  discipline  was  not  lax 
by  any  means." 

"  Children,  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  asked  Mistress 
Davis,  coming  up  stairs.  "  'Tis  time  you  were  abed, 
and  asleep." 

"There  it  goes,"  muttered  Philippa.  "Always  in- 
terfering." 

"  Philippa  came  to  borrow  a  book,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  very  well.  There  is  no  harm  done.  Good 
night." 

"  Here  is  the  book,"  said  I,  producing  it ;  "  only 
please  be  careful — "  for  she  took  it  in  a  very  heedless 
way  by  one  cover.  "  It  is  very  dear  to  me,  because 
our  mother  gave  it  me  a  present  from  her  own  hand, 
and  there  are  some  of  her  paintings  in  it." 

Philippa  instantly  laid  the  volume  on  the  table. 
"I  will  not  take  it  if  you  are  so  dreadfully  afraid  of 
it,"  said  she.  "  I  did  not  guess  I  was  asking  such  a 
favor.  But  that  is  always  the  way.  One  would  think 
that  I  did  nothing  else  but  spoil  things.  I  don't 
want  the  book  if  you  are  afraid  of  my  spoiling  it  by 
only  looking  at  it," 


164  Lov eddy's  History. 

I  suppose  she  thought  I  was  going  to  urge  it 
upon  her,  but  she  was  mistaken.  My  own  temper 
was  up  by  that  time,  and  I  quietly  turned  from  her, 
took  the  book  and  laid  it  away,  and  bidding  her  a 
short  good-night,  I  shut  the  door.  I  sat  a  few 
minutes  by  the  open  casement  to  cool  my  face  and 
also  my  spirit,  and  then  I  said  my  prayers  and  went 
to  bed.  It  was  all  saying  prayers  at  that  time. 
The  words  never  went  deeper  than  my  lips,  or  at  most 
I  thought  of  them  as  a  sort  of  charm,  the  repeating 
whereof  might  propitiate  some  unknown  power  and 
save  us  from  some  unknown  danger.  I  don't  say  this 
is  the  case  with  all  Roman  Catholics  by  any  means, 
but  I  know  it  is  with  a  great  many.  They  gabble 
over  their  rosary  with  no  more  devotion  than  a  village 
child  goes  over  the  criss-cross  row*,  or  the  pence 
table,  and  from  much  the  same  motive,  because  they 
expect  to  be  beaten  if  they  do  not  know  their  lesson. 

*  The  criss-cross  row  is  the  alphabet,  always  preceded  in  the 
old  primers  and  horn  books  by  a  cross.  Few  people  who  use 
the  word  are  aware  of  its  origin. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HER  GRACE'S  GENTLEWOMAN. 

STAID  with  Master  Davis  two  months 
or  more,  always  hoping  to  hear  from  my 
uncle  and  always  disappointed.  Every  one 
was  kind  to  me.  Master  and  Mistress  Davis  treated 
me  like  a  daughter  in  every  respect,  and  I  strove  to 
behave  like  a  dutiful  child  to  them.  Mistress  Davis 
found  me  plenty  to  do,  knowing,  dear  soul  that  she 
ever  was,  that  to  make  me  useful  was  the  way  to 
to  make  me  feel  at  home.  I  have  learned  a  good 
many  precious  recipes  for  distilling  and  preserving, 
and  I  liked  nothing  better  than  putting  them  in  prac- 
tice. Then  Mistress  Andrew  Davis  fell  in  love  with  my 
playing,  and  must  needs  have  me  give  her  lessons  on 
the  clari chord.  She  had  a  fair  talent  for  music,  and  a 
sweet,  bird  like  voice,  and  I  shall  never  forget  her 
pretty,  child-like  joy  when  she  was  able  to  surprise 
her  grave  husband  with  a  song  and  a  lesson  on  the 
instrument  he  had  given  her.  I  pursued  my  Latin 
and  French,  and  persuaded  Mistress  Davis  to  let  me 
begin  to  teach  the  little  Helen  to  read.  She  proved 
an  apt  scholar,  and  we  had  pleasant  times  over  our 
books. 
It  was  a  wonderful  new  world  that  opened  to  me 


166  Lovcday^s  History. 

during  those  two  months.  As  I  said,  I  never  in  my 
life  before  had  any  deep  convictions  of  religion.  I 
had  gone  through  the  usual  routine  in  the  convent 
just  as  I  worked  my  lace  and  sewed  my  white 
seam,  but  that  was  all.  I  had  a  great  dread  of  death, 
and  when  any  thing  brought  it  home  to  me,  I  would 
redouble  my  observances  and  try  to  feel  as  I  sup- 
posed really  religious  people  felt.  But  it  was  all 
outside  of  me,  so  to  speak.  I  believed  in  God,  of 
course,  but  it  was  as  a  stern  judge  I  thought  of  him — 
not  by  any  means  as  a  tender  Father.  The  blessed 
Virgin  was,  indeed,  kind  and  gentle,  and  if  I  coaxed 
her  enough,  she  would  perhaps  command  her  son  to 
be  good  to  me  at  that  dreadful  day  of  doom."^  But 
ever  and  always  in  the  background  of  my  mind — that 
is,  after  I  began  to  think  at  all — was  that  fearful 
specter  of  Purgatory,  the  dread  ordeal  which  must 
be  passed  before  I  could  hope  for  the  smallest 
taste  of  the  bliss  of  Paradise.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  this  was  the  case  with  all  of  our  num- 
ber. Some  sweet  souls  there  were  who  sucked  the 
honey  in  spite  of  the  thorn,  and  albeit  sorely  cum- 
bered and  distressed  by  the  barriers  which  the 
pride  and  folly  of  men  had  piled  in  their  way,  did 
find  access  to  the  very  Mercy  Seat.  Some  found  a 
real  satisfaction  in  piling  up  prayer  upon  prayer, 
observance  upon  observance,  thinking  they  were 
thereby  heaping  up  merit  not  only  for  themselves 
but  their  friends.  Others,  and  they  were  the 
most,  were  content  to  perform  such  tasks  as  they 
could  not  escape,  in  as  easy  a  manner  as  possible, 
trusting  to  their  religious  profession  and  the  offices 
of  their  patron  saint  to  help  them  out  at  the  last. 


Her  Grace's   Gentlewoman.  167 

I  had  all  my  life  been  curious  about  books,  ever 
since  a  chit  of  five  years  old,  I  had  tumbled  off  a 
joint-stool  whereon  I  had  climbed  to  look  at  the 
great  volume  of  the  Morte  d' Arthur  which  lay  in  the 
window  seat  in  the  hall.  I  got  a  sound  switching 
across  my  fingers  for  meddling,  but  neither  the  switch- 
ing nor  the  tumble  cured  me  of  my  hunger  for  books. 
This  hunger  had  very  little  to  feed  it  at  Dartford, 
but  it  never  died  out,  and  I  used  to  read  over  and 
over  the  few  volumes  we  had  till  I  knew  them  by 
heart.  It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  with  such  a 
disposition  I  would  let  the  New  Testament  lie  very 
long  on  my  table  without  looking  into  it.  I  chanced 
to  begin  at  the  first  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apos- 
tles— that  wonderful  book,  which  always  seems  to  me 
to  have  the  rushing,  mighty  wind  of  the  Pentecost 
blowing  through  it  from  beginning  to  end.  It  was  a 
Sunday  afternoon,  I  remember,  and  the  streets  were 
full  of  people  waiting  to  see  the  King  pass  by  going 
to  see  some  great  lord.  I  was  not  well,  yet  not  so  ill 
but  I  was  sitting  up  by  my  window  to  watch  the 
show.  To  while  away  the  time,  I  took  up  the  book, 
and  I  soon  became  so  lost  in  it  that  the  whole  pageant 
passed  by  without  my  seeing  it  at  all.  I  was 
still  deep  in  its  pages  when  Mistress  Davis  came  to 
see  how  I  fared,  and  so  fully  was  I  absorbed  in  the 
story  that  when  she  asked  me  where  I  had  been,  I 
answered  her — 

"  At  Jerusalem,  madam  !  " 

Whereat  she  laughed,  and  answered  that  it  was  a 
good  place  to  be  of  a  Sunday,"  adding  more  seriously: 
"  But  I  see  how  it  is,  and  right  glad  am  I  to  see  you 
so  well  employed.  Only  remember  this,  chick  :  the 


168  Loveday^s  History. 

Scripture  is  not  made  to  be  read  for  diversion, 
like  a  Canterbury  tale,  or  even  like  any  other  good 
book.  'Tis  the  Lord's  own  word  sent  down  for  the 
comfort  of  us  poor  sinners,  and  to  guide  us  to  that 
Home  which  He  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love 
Him  ;  and  as  such,  we  must  study  it  with  reverence 
and  ask  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  Spirit  to  be 
shed  on  its  pages." 

This  was  a  new  idea  to  me,  and  I  closed  the  volume 
for  that  time  with  a  strange  bewilderment  of  ideas. 
I  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  it,  and  the  more  I 
thought,  the  more  bewildered  I  became.  Here  was  a 
history  of  the  first  age  of  the  church  under  the 
apostles  themselves,  and  yet  not  a  word  said  about 
the  worship  of  the  Holy  Mother,  the  adoration  of 
saints,  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  and  many  other 
things  which  I  had  been  led  to  consider  essential  to 
salvation. 

"  But  perhaps  they  are  in  the  Epistles  and  Gospels," 
I  thought,  "  only  it  is  very  strange  that  no  more 
should  be  said  about  the  Holy  Mother  after  the  first 
chapter,  and  that  then  she  should  only  be  spoken  of 
in  the  same  way  as  the  other  women." 

But  when  I  came  to  read  the  Gospels  it  was  sur- 
prise piled  upon  surprise.  At  first  it  was  sheer  enjoy- 
ment. How  lovely  were  those  narratives  into  which 
I  threw  myself  with  an  earnestness  which  made  me 
forget  every  thing  else  for  the  time  being.  How  real 
to  me  were  the  gatherings  to  hear  the  word,  the  feed- 
ing of  the  multitudes,  the  sower  who  went  forth  to 
sow,  the  laborers  waiting  to  be  hired  and  grumbling 
over  their  pay,  not  because  they  had  not  enough,  but 
because  some  one  else  had  as  much. 


Her  Graces  Gentlewoman.  169 

But  by  degrees  other  thoughts  occupied  my  mind 
and  heart.  I  began  to  compare  myself  with  the  full 
requirements  of  God's  holy  law.  I  stood  for  the  first 
time  face  to  face  with  that  awful  spirit  whom  men  call 
Conviction  of  Sin.  I  was  shown  that  I  was  con- 
demned under  the  law,  and  unless  some  way  of  escape 
were  provided  there  was  nothing  before  me  but  de- 
struction— nay,  that  I  was  condemned  already.  My 
first  thought  was  to  reform  myself;  but  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  more  I  tried  the  worse  I  grew.  I  am 
sure  1  never  in  all  my  life  gave  way  so  far  to  temper 
and  fretful  ness  (always  my  besetting  sins)  as  at  that 
time.  Looking  back  at  those  days  I  can  not  but 
wonder  at  the  wise  and  tender  patience  of  Master 
and  Mistress  Davis  toward  me.  As  for  Philippa,  I 
don't  think  I  am  uncharitable  when  I  say  that  she 
openly  exulted  over  every  outburst.  But  I  .don't 
mean  to  speak  of  he^  more  than  I  can  help  it.  She 
was,  indeed,  one  of  those  thorns  in  the  side  which 
seem  to  have  no  other  use  than  to  try  the  patience  of 
those  who  are  affected  by  them,  and  which  only 
rankle  the  more  the  more  they  are  plucked  at. 

Thus  was  I  shut  up  under  the  law,  and  that  which 
was  ordained  to  life  I  found  to  be  unto  death.  It 
was  Margaret  Hall  who  led  me  out  of  this  prison  into 
the  light  and  life  of  heaven.  She  had  me  to  stay 
with  her  under  pretext  of  having  my  help  in  correct- 
ing the  press,  which  I  had  learned  to  do  with  toler- 
able dexterity.  She  was  one  of  those  blessed  saints 
whose  very  presence  is  comfort  though  they  do  not 
speak.  By  degrees  she  won  from  me  the  secret  of  my 
trouble,  and  then  taking  my  hand,  as  it  were,  she  led 
me  to  the  fountain  opened  for  sin,  and  showed  me 


170  Loveday^s  History. 

that  spring  of  living  water  which  has  never  failed  me 
since,  though,  woe  is  me,  I  have  many  a  time  choked 
its  overflow,  and  turned  from  it  to  those  broken 
cisterns  that  can  hold  no  water. 

Oh,  what  a  load  she  took  from  my  mind.  I  was,  as 
1  suppose  a  man  might  be  who  had  worn  fetters  ever 
since  he  could  remember,  and  though  dimly  conscious 
of  them  did  not  fully  know  their  weight  and  hinder- 
ance  till  they  were  struck  off.  It  was  as  a  new  crea- 
ture that  I  came  back  to  Master  Davis's  friendly 
roof. 

But  those  were  trying  times — in  some  respects  more 
trying  even  than  the  more  bloody  days  that  came 
under  Queen  Mary.  Then,  at  least,  one  knew  what  to 
expect.  The  king  was  growing  more  and  more  in- 
firm and  capricious  all  the  time,  and  worked  changes 
in  church  and  state  till  it  took  a  good  head  to  know 
what  was  -heresy  and  treason  and  what  was  not. 
Already  my  Lord  Cromwell  had  been  filled  with  the 
fruit  of  his  own  devices,  and  now,  within  six  short 
months  after  he  had  been  created  Earl  of  Essex  (that 
title  which  hath  proved  almost  as  unlucky  to  its 
possessor  as  the  famous  horse  Sejanus),  he  lay  in  the 
Tower,  attainted  of  treason,  and  waiting  for  the  very 
block  and  ax  to  which  he  himself  had  sent  so  many. 
His  real  offense  lay  in  purveying  to  the  king  a  wife 
who  did  not  please  him — the  Lady  Anne  of  Cleves, 
already  divorced  and  living  in  her  own  house,  treated 
by  the  king  as  his  sister,  happy  in  her  endless  tapestry 
work  and  in  munching  the  Buckets  and  comfits  her 
Flemish  ladies-in-waiting  purveyed  for  her.  She  was 
not  one  to  take  any  thing  very  much  to  heart  which 
did  not  interfere  with  her  bodily  comfort.  The  king 


Her  Grace's  Gentlewoman.  171 

had  already  turned  his  dangerous  fancy  toward  the 
ill-fated  Katherine  Howard,  but  I  don't  believe  the 
Lady  Anne  felt  one  pang  of  jealousy  thereat.  She 
was,  with  all  reverence,  like  a  gentle,  fat  cow,  per- 
fectly content  so  long  as  she  had  food  and  drink,  and 
the  flies  were  not  too  troublesome. 

But  it  was  not  the  alterations  in  state  matters  and 
the  rise  and  fall  of  one  great  man  or  another  which 
troubled  our  peace.  It  was  the  dreadful  uncertainty 
in  matters  of  religion.  Just  now  the  bloody  statute 
of  the  Six  Articles  was  law,  but  it  was  enforced 
rigidly  or  not,  as  the  king's  humor  was,  or  the  in- 
fluence of  Archbishop  Cranmer  or  of  Bonner  and 
Gardiner  came  uppermost.  These  two  last  were  the 
moving  and  ruling  spirits  in  all  persecutions  at  this 
time,  as  they  were  afterward  in  the  more  bloody  days 
of  Queen  Mary.  They  had  consented  to  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  convents,  and  were  even  most  forward  in 
the  matter,  being  willing,  1  suppose,  to  swim  with  the 
current  so  far  if  but  they  might  have  their  way  as  to 
the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  and  some  other  matters. 
They  were  wise  enough  to  know  that  all  was  naught 
with  their  cause  if  the  Bible  came  to  be  generally 
read  ;  but  they  were  not  far-seeing  enough  to  under- 
stand that  the  same  Bible,  having  once  been  given  to 
the  people,  they  could  no  more  take  it  back  than  they 
could  bring  back  again  the  day  that  is  past.  They 
could  not  imprison  or  burn  every  one  who  read  it,  and 
who  thought  out  conclusions  for  himself,  else  must 
they  have  put  the  whole  city  of  London  under 
sentence  of  death,  as  King  Philip  the  Second  of 
Spain  drd  to  the  Netherlands.  But  they  picked  up 
one  here  and  another  there,  and  nobody  felt  any 


172  JLoveday^s  History. 

security,  or  knew  but  some  spy  was  observing  his 
movements  in  order  to  betray  him.  One  week  the 
king  hanged  six  monks,  with  their  prior  at  their  head, 
for  defending  a  monastic  life  ;  the  next  he  threatened 
with  a  like  fate  any  monk  or  nun  who,  having  taken 
the  vows  of  that  life,  should  presume  to  marry.  As 
his  infirmities  increased,  his  temper  grew  more  un- 
certain, till  at  last  any  man  seemed  to  take  his  life  in 
his  hand  who  had  to  do  with  the  king. 

Then  there  were  great  disorders  every  where,  some 
rising  out  of  religion,  others  from  the  excessive  taxa- 
tion which  pressed  heavily  upon  all  classes.  Discon- 
tent was  smouldering  in  all  quarters,  and  now  and 
then  broke  out  into  open  flame,  as  in  the  two  Pilgrim- 
ages of  Grace,  and  other  insurrections.  It  is  not  to 
be  denied  that  the  Protestants,  as  they  began  to  be 
called,  were  also  guilty  of  indecencies  and  extrava- 
gance. If  you  dam  up  a  rapid  stream,  though  never 
so  clear,  and  your  dam  be  swept  away,  the  first  over- 
flow will  be  turbid  and  violent,  and  likely  enow  to 
do  mischief.  Moreover,  if  the  people  enacted  ridicu- 
lous plays,  and  sang  ribald  songs  in  the  churches, 
they  had  seen  these  very  same  things  allowed,  nay, 
encouraged  by  the  church,  in  the  spectacles  of  the 
Boy  Bishop  and  the  Pope  of  Fools — those  strange 
and  extravagant  parodies  of  the  most  sacred  offices 
of  the  church. 

Yes,  it  was  indeed  a  troublesome  time,  and  every 
man  who,  despite  the  commands  of  the  king  and  his 
ministers,  continued  to  read  the  Holy  Scripture,  and 
to  frame  his  belief  and  life  thereby,  took  that  life  in 
his  hand  ;  yet  many  households  did  it,  and  lived 
happy  in  the  midst  of  disaster,  and  peaceful  on  the 


Her  Grace's   Gentlewoman.  173 

very  field  where  the  battle  was  raging.  Such  a 
household  was  ours.  One  there  was,  indeed,  who 
would  not  enter  in  herself,  and  who  would  fain  have 
hindered  those  who  would  do  so.  I  confess  I  used  to 
be  afraid  of  Philippa  at  times,  not  that  in  her  sober 
senses  she  would  have  been  so  base  as  to  put  the 
brand  with  her  own  hands  to  the  thatch  which  shel- 
tered her,  but  in  her  fits  of  temper  there  was  no  say- 
ing what  she  might  do.  Besides,  she  was  one  of 
those  unhappy  people  to  whom  it  seems  absolutely 
necessary  to  hate  something.  In  those  days  it  was 
the  Protestants.  Now,  she  thinks  I  am  greatly  to 
blame  in  harboring  poor,  harmless  old  Father  Austin; 
looks  upon  the  book  of  Common  Prayer  as  a  remnant 
of  popery,  and  upon  bishops  as  at  best  very  doubtful 
characters.  She  hates  all  Romanists  and  Prelatists, 
as  she  calls  them,  in  just  the  same  spirit  that  she 
used  to  hate  the  Scripture-readers — because  they  do 
not  agree  with  her. 

But  at  that  time  she  contented  herself  with  hating, 
and  did  no  covert  act,  save  by  keeping  away  from  the 
Scripture-readings— for  which  no  one  blamed  her,  as 
she  made  it  matter  of  conscience,  and  with  bitter 
gibes  and  taunts  whenever  the  subject  was  intro- 
duced, and,  above  all,  if  the  talk  turned  upon  per- 
sonal religion  and  inward  experience.  But  as  she 
had  taken  to  solitude  and  keeping  of  her  hours,  and 
the  like,  so  she  was  out  of  the  way  a  good  deal. 
Meantime,  our  household  went  on  its  way,  in  the  midst 
of  the  commotion,  like  a  stanch  ship  in  a  troubled 
sea.  There  was  anxiety,  indeed,  which  became  sharp 
fear  and  agonized  suspense,  when  the  master  of  the 
family  did  not  come  home  at  the  accustomed  hours  ; 


174  Loveday^s  History. 

but  as  yet  this  was  the  worst  which  had  befallen  us. 
Master  Hall  no  more  printed  Bibles  openly,  but  I 
knew  well  that  they  were  both  made  and  sold  in 
secret.  However,  he  multiplied  copies  of  the  vul- 
gate,  and  of  Erasmus's  Paraphrase  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, so  that  every  one  who  could  make  shift  to  read 
the  very  easy  Latin  could  have  one.  Afterward,  the 
universal  reading  even  of  the  vulgate  came  to  be  for- 
bidden, but  it  was  not  so  at  that  time.  People  grew 
eager  to  have  their  children  taught  to  read,  and  all 
the  day-schools  were  full.  Greek,  too,  was  more  and 
more  studied,  and  many  ladies,  especially  about  the 
Court,  were  good  Grecians.  I  had  a  great  fancy  to 
learn  it  myself,  and  made,  with  Margaret  Hall's  help, 
a  good  beginning;  which,  however,  never  came  to  be 
much  more. 

I  was  all  this  time  growing  very  uneasy  at  my 
state  of  dependence.  It  was  true,  as  Master  Davis 
had  told  me. at  first,  that  God  had  blessed  him  with 
abundant  means,  but  then  he  had  a  great  many  uses 
for  those  means.  The  old  mother  of  his  first  wife 
was  still  living,  and  as  she  persisted  in  keeping  up 
her  own  house,  and  had  little  or  nothing  whereon  to 
do  it,  somebody  had  to  do  it  for  her.  I  had  been  in 
the  house  some  weeks,  and  had  visited  her  several 
times,  before  I  found  out  that  she  was  wholly  de- 
pendent upon  her  son-in-law's  bounty.  She  was  only 
one  of  many  pensioners.  Besides,  I  fancy  a  good 
deal  of  the  profit  of  the  silk  money  went  in  another 
way.  There  was  then  in  England  a  sort  of  secret 
society  called  the  Christian  Brothers.  This  society 
was  composed  of  well-to-do  merchants  and  trades- 
men, for  the  most  part,  though  it  numbered  both 


Her  Grace's  Gentlewoman.  175 

priests  and  gentlemen  among  its  members.  It  bad  its 
correspondents  and  branches  all  over  tbe  country, 
and  its  object  was  to  scatter  far  and  wide  copies  of 
tbe  sacred  Word.  As  tbe  merchant  journeyed  with 
bis  string  of  packhorses,  laden  with  cloth,  or  silk,  or 
hangings,  or  whatever  might  be  his  commodity,  there 
was  cunningly  hidden  under  the  bales  a  case  or  two 
of  Bibles,  Testaments,  and  such  portions  thereof  as 
might  be  more  easily  concealed.  When  he  came  to  a 
town,  he  had  usually  knowledge  beforehand  who  was 
like  to  be  well-affected  to  the  faith,  or  he  inquired, 
like  the  disciples  of  old,  who  therein  was  worthy,  and 
there  he  took  up  his  abode,  disposing  of  his  mer- 
chandise, and  giving  of  his  books  as  he  found  occa- 
sion. The  truth  was,  that  ever  since  the  times  of 
Master  Wickliffe  and  the  Lollards,  there  were  those 
scattered  about  both  this  kingdom  and  Scotland, 
who  had  kept  the  faith  and  handed  it  down  from 
father  to  son,  together  with  some  written  copies  of 
Master  Wickliffe's  Bible.  But  these  copies,  being 
gradually  outworn,  and  becoming  more  and  more 
hard  to  understand,  from  the  change  of  language  in 
all  those  years,  it  may  be  guessed  how  eagerly  and 
joyfully  these  poor,  faithful  ones  would  welcome  the 
Word  of  Life  fairly  imprinted,  and  in  such  a  shape 
as  could  be  easily  hid  away,  if  need  were,  or  carried 
about  when  there  was  no  danger.  I  have  heard  old 
folk,  who  remembered  far  back,  say  that  the  Lol- 
lards, as  men  called  them,  were  in  the  habit  of  put- 
ting certain  marks  and  signs  upon  their  houses  which 
were  known  to  no  one  else,  and  which  served  to  guide 
those  of  them  who  traveled  to  the  homes  of  their 
friends.  I  vouch  not  for  the  story,  but  'tis  like  enow 


176  Loveday^s  History. 

to  be  true.  Master  Davis  and  his  sons  were  members 
of  this  society,  and  I  now  learned  that  mine  uncle 
had  been  a  great  promoter  of  it.  Of  course  such 
service  was  not  only  perilous,  but  it  cost  a  great  deal 
in  money,  and  brought  no  return  as  the  riches  of 
this  world.  I  could  not  but  notice  how  plain  was 
Mistress  Davis's  own  dress  and  that  of  her  children, 
and  how  both  she  and  Margaret  did  forego  many  of 
the  luxuries  and  ornaments  indulged  in  by  others  of 
their  station.  They  could  not  carry  their  practice  in 
this  respect  too  far,  however,  since  this  very  sim- 
plicity in  attire  and  living  might  throw  suspicion  upon 
them.  Mistress  Davis  was  kind  enough  to  say  that 
the  help  I  gave  her  about  the  house,  and  the  care  of 
the  little  ones,  did  more  than  offset  the  expense  she 
was  at  for  me  ;  but  I  knew,  in  truth,  that  help  was 
very  little,  though  the  dear  soul  took  pains  to  make 
many  occasions  for  my  services  that  I  might  not  feel 
myself  a  burden. 

I  was  young  and  strong.  I  was  able  to  work,  and 
had  been  blest  with  a  good  education,  and  it  did  not 
seem  right  that  these  good  friends,  on  whom  I  had  no 
claim,  should  be  burdened  with  my  maintenance.  I  be- 
gan to  cast  about  for  some  business  whereby  I  could 
earn  my  bread,  and  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to 
set  up  a  little  school,  when  fate,  or  rather  Providence, 
(to  speak  like  a  Christian  instead  of  a  heathen,)  cast 
in  my  way  the  very  thing  for  which  I  was  best  suited. 
I  have  mentioned  before  that  Mistress  Davis  had  an 
elder  sister  who  held  an  important  place  in  the  house- 
hold of  Katherine,  Duchess  of  Suffolk.  This  lady, 
the  daughter  and  heir  of  Lord  Willowbyby  a  beauti- 
ful Spanish  lady,  whilom  maid  of  honor  to  the 


Her  Grace's   Gentlewoman.  177 

unfortunate  Queen  Katherine,  had  been  left  in  ward 
to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  her  father's  best  friend.  She 
was  bred  up  under  his  care,  and  when  she  came  to 
woman's  estate  he  married  her. 

Mistress  Isabel  Curtis — that  was  the  name  of  Mis- 
tress Davis's  sister — had  been  about  the  young  lady 
since  her  infancy,  and,  as  was  natural,  she  still  con- 
tinued in  her  service  and  affection,  and  had  a  great 
deal  to  do  in  the  management  of  that  great  house- 
hold. She  had  been  out  of  town  with  her  mistress  at 
the  duke's  new  manor  of  Hereham,  given  him  by  the 
king  in  exchange  for  the  suppressed  priory  of  Leis- 
ton  ;  but  the  family  were  now  at  their  house  in  Lon- 
don, and  on  the  first  occasion  possible  Mistress  Curtis 
had  come  to  visit  her  sister,  between  whom  and  her- 
self there  subsisted  a  devoted  affection  not  often 
seen — more's  the  pity — in  that  relation. 

I  had  just  come  home  from  Master  Hall's,  where  I 
had  been  helping  Margaret  correct  the  sheets  of 
Erasmus  his  Paraphrase.  (I  was  not  allowed  to  help 
in  the  work  done  by  the  secret  press,  lest  I  should  be 
brought  into  trouble  thereby.)  1  had  also  been 
giving  a  lesson  on  the  lute  to  Mistress  Alice,  Andrew's 
wife,  and  I  was  feeling  very  elate  because  her  mother, 
a  stately  dame,  had  rewarded  me  with  a  broad  Span- 
ish gold  piece  for  the  pains  I  had  taken  in  teaching 
Mistress  Alice  some  old  ditty  which  the  lady  had 
liked  in  her  youth.  I  heard  below  that  there  was  a 
guest  in  the  parlor,  and  not  liking  to  intrude  unasked, 
I  was  passing  to  my  room,  when  Mistress  Davis 
called  me  in  and  presented  me  to  her  sister.  I  made 
my  courtesy,  and  fell  in  love  with  her  then  and  there, 
even  as  I  had  done  with  Mistress  Davis. 


178  Loveday's  History. 

Mistress  Curtis  would  have  made  two  of  her  little 
sister.  She  was  tall  and  inclining  to  be  stout,  but 
not  unbecomingly  so.  Her  features,  though  large, 
were  regular,  her  mouth  somewhat  thin,  her  chin 
beautifully  formed.  But  it  was  her  eyes  that  gave 
the  chief  beauty  to  her  face.  I  hardly  ever  heard 
any  two  people  agree  about  their  color.  They  were, 
in  fact,  gray,  but  the  pupils  were  so  large  and  had 
such  a  trick  of  dilating  that  they  looked  black.  Like 
all  the  gray  eyes  I  have  ever  seen,  they  had  great 
powers  of  expression,  and  a  wonderful  keenness  and 
brilliancy,  which  seemed  to  look  one  through  and 
through.  Associating,  as  she  had  always  done  with 
great  people,  and  having  such  a  responsible  charge, 
her  manner  had  in  it  something  of  command,  yet 
not  mingled  with  aught  haughty  or  supercilious.  I 
never  saw  the  like  of  Mistress  Curtis  before,  and  I 
am  quite  sure  I  never  shall  again. 

She  received  me  very  graciously,  and,  Mistress 
Davis  having  invited  me  to  do  so,  1  fetched  my  work 
and  took  a  stool  near  the  window.  I  was  at  that 
time  bestowing  all  my  skill  on  the  embroidery  of  a 
set  of  kerchiefs  and  mufflers  for  Mistress  Davis — and 
I  may  say,  without  vanity,  that  I  was  not  ashamed  to 
show  my  white  seam  and  sprigs  with  any  body. 

Mistress  Curtis  looked  at  and  commended  my  work, 
and  then  pursued  her  conversation  with  her  sister. 

"  And  so  Mrs.  Anne  is  married  !  "  said  Mistress 
Davis  :  "I  trust  she  hath  done  well." 

"  Why  yes,  I  think  so  !  "  answered  Mistress  Curtis. 
"  The  match  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  below  her  degree, 
since  Master  Agnew  is  but  a  yeoman  born,  but  then 
he  hath  a  fair  estate  and  is  himself  a  man  of  good 


Her  Grace's  Gentlewoman.  179 

conditions.  Mrs.  Anne  was  ever  one  who  loved  house- 
wifery  and  a  country  life,  and  she  hath  an  easy, 
patient  temper.  Yes,  I  think  she  may  be  very 
happy." 

"  And  who  hath  filled  her  place  ?  " 

"Nobody  as  yet.  The  Duke  will  have  none  but 
gentlewomen  about  his  wife,  at  least  in  her  chamber, 
and  her  Grace  would  like  some  young  lady  who  can 
read  aloud  in  Latin  and  English,  and  hath  skill  with 
the  lute  and  voice.  She  loves  music  above  any  one  I 
ever  saw,  though  she  does  not  sing." 

I  could  not  help  looking  eagerly  up  at  this.  Mistress 
Davis  saw  it,  and  smiled. 

"Here  is  Loveday  thinking,  'Now  that  is  just  the 
place  for  me,' "  said  she.  "  Were  you  not,  chick  ?  " 

I  confessed  that  some  such  matter  had  been  in  my 
thought. 

"  And  why  should  it  be  in  your  thought  ?  "  asked 
Mistress  Curtis,  a  little  severely,  as  it  seemed.  "  Are 
you  not  happy  and  content  with  my  sister  ?  " 

"  More  than  happy,  madam,"  I  answered.  "  I  should 
be  the  basest  of  ingrates  were  it  otherwise.  But  Mas- 
ter and  Mistress  Davis  have  many  burdens  on  their 
hands  already,  and  it  seems  not  right  that  I  should 
add  to  them,  being  young  and  strong,  and  having 
(under  your  favor,  madam)  a  good  education,  which 
ought  to  stand  in  stead  in  earning  a  living." 

"  Why  that  is  speaking  well,  and  like  a  sensible 
woman,"  said  Mistress  Curtis.  "  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

I  told  her  that  I  was  eighteen. 

"  It  is  full  young,  her  Grace  herself  being  so  youth- 
ful ;  and  yet  better  the  follies  of  youth  than  those  of 
age,"  she  added,  in  a  musing  tone. 


180  Loveday^  s  History. 

"Loveday  is  not  perfect  more  than  other  young 
people,"  said  Mistress  Davis;  "but  yet  I  think  she 
hath  as  few  of  these  follies  as  fall  to  the  lot  of  most 
maidens.  I  hope  my  own  wenches*  may  grow  up  as 
good  and  towardly  as  she.  But  Loveday,  why  should 
you  wish  to  leave  us  ?  " 

"  Only  because  I  would  not  be  a  burden  on  your 
hands,  dear  aunt,"  (so  I  had  called  her  of  late,  by  her 
own  desire).  "  You  have  many  to  do  for  who  are 
really  helpless  from  age  and  sickness,  and  I  cannot  but 
feel  that  I  am  robbing  some  such  person  when  I  eat 
the  bread  of  idleness  in  your  house." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  I  see  that  we  can  think  for  ourselves,  and 
that  to  purpose,"  said  Mistress  Curtis,  with  a  smile. 
Hers  was  one  of  those  faces  in  which  the  eyes  smile 
before  the  lips.  "  But  what  of  your  family,  damsel  ? 
Are  you  of  gentle  blood  ?  " 

I  satisfied  her  on  that  point.  Indeed  the  Corbets 
are  among  the  oldest  of  our  old  Devon  families,  and 
go  back  far  beyond  the  Conqueror.  (N.  B. — 'Tis  no 
great  wonder  he  conquered,  seeing  how  many  people's 
ancestors  came  over  with  him.)  Then  she  would  have 
me  read  and  sing  for  her.  Being  naturally  somewhat 
agitated,  I  did  not  acquit  myself  as  well  as  usual,  but 
Mistress  Curtis  seemed  to  be  satisfied. 

"I  see,  indeed,  that  you  have  been  well  taught," 
said  she.  "  You  are  convent  bred,  you  say.  Where  ?  " 

I  told  her.  "It  was  a  good  house,"  she  said,  mus- 
ingly :  "  I  much  wonder,  sister,  what  young  ladies 
will  do  for  schools  of  education  now  that  the  convents 

*  Wench  and  wretch  were  terms  of  endearment  in  those 
days,  and  the  former  is  so  still  in  some  parts  of  England.  Sir 
Thomas  More  uses  it  to  his  daughters. 


Her  Graces  Gentlewoman.  181 

are  all  gone.  'Twere  a  good  deed  for  some  one 
to  set  up  a  school  where  such  might  board  and  study 
under  good  mistresses.  Well,  my  young  lady,  I  like 
your  conditions,  so  far  as  I  see  them.  With  my  sis- 
ter's permission,  I  will  now  ask  you  to  withdraw,  that 
I  may  talk  the  matter  over  with  her." 

Mistress  Davis  called  me  aside  and  gave  me  some 
commission  or  other  about  dainties  for  the  supper- 
table.  I  had  often  exercised  my  skill  in  this  way  since 
I  came  to  London.  I  went  to  the  kitchen  and  asked 
Madge,  the  cook,  to  have  all  things  in  readiness  for 
me,  and  then  retiring  to  my  closet,  I  prayed  earnestly 
that  all  things  might  be  ordered  for  the  best.  Then, 
leaving  the  matter  where  it  belonged,  I  betook  my- 
self to  the  making  of  such  a  device  in  blanc-manger 
as  should  adorn  the  supper  table  and  do  honor  to  our 
guest. 

After  the  meal  was  over  and  Mistress  Curtis  had 
departed,  Master  and  Mistress  Davis  called  me  into 
the  parlor  and  bade  me  sit  down.  They  told  me  that 
while  I  was  most  welcome  to  remain  in  their  house 
and  family  as  long  as  I  needed  a  home,  yet  they 
could  not  but  commend  the  spirit  which  led  me  to 
wish  to  earn  mine  own  living. 

"  It  is  not  every  great  family  to  which  I  should 
like  to  send  a  young  lady,"  said  Master  Davis,  "  but 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk's  household  hath  ever  had  a  rep- 
utation for  man-loving  and  godliness." 

"What  like  is  his  Grace:"'  I  ventured  to  ask. 
Master  Davis  smiled. 

"  Like  a  knight  of  the  past  age,"  said  he.  "  More 
I  will  not  tell  you.  The  present  Duchess  is  very 
young,  but  she  hath  been  well  brought  up  and  comes 


182  Loveday^s  History. 

of  a  good  stock.  She  shows  her  sense  in  keeping  my 
good  sister  Curtis  at  the  head  of  her  household.  Well, 
then,  my  child,  you  shall  wait  upon  the  Duchess  to- 
morrow, and  if  you  are  mutually  pleased,  you  shall 
take  the  place  my  sister  offers  you.  But  remember, 
Loveday,  that  you  are  always  to  have  a  home  in  this 
house." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  goodness  as  well  as  I  could— 
for  the  rebellious  tears  would  come  in  spite  of  me — 
saying  I  should  never  forget  the  kindness  shown  me 
in  that  house,  and  Mistress  Hall's  goodness. 

"  The  obligation  hath  been  mutual,  my  dear,"  said 
Mistress  Davis.  "  I  do  not  know  what  the  children 
will  say,  especially  Bess  and  Helen." 

"  And  you  will  let  me  know  so  soon  as  you  hear 
from  mine  uncle,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Master  Davis,  but  he 
sighed  and  the  sigh  was  echoed  by  his  wife.  I  knew 
that  he  had  little  hope  of  ever  hearing  from  Gabriel 
Corbet  again.  Those  were  days  (as  they  are  still 
abroad)  when  a  man  could  easily  drop  out  of  sight 
and  never  be  found  or  heard  of  again.  I  have 
thought  since  that  one  reason  why  Master  Davis 
was  so  ready  to  let  me  go,  was  a  consideration  for 
mine  own  safety.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk  was  in 
great  favor  with  Henry,  and  was,  indeed,  his  brother- 
in-law  as  well  as  god-father  to  the  little  Prince  Ed- 
ward, and  he  was  one  of  the  few  men  who  dared  cross 
the  King's  humor  now  and  then.  Gardiner  hated 
him,  but  he  was  rather  too  high  a  quarry  for  that  foul 
Jtite  to  fly  at,  bold  as  he  was  in  those  days. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


HER    GRACE. 


HE  next  day  at  noon,  which  was  the  time 
appointed  by  Mistress  Curtis,  ray  aunt 
and  I  presented  ourselves  at  the  great  new 
mansion  which  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  had  built  for 
himself  in  Southwarke,  over  against  the  church  of 
St.  George.  This  house  came  afterward  into  the 
king's  possession,  and  is  now  used  as  a  mint  for 
the  coinage  of  money.  I  had  passed  the  house  more 
than  once  and  admired  its  ornaments,  little  thinking 
that  I  should  ever  live  there.  The  porter  was  at  the 
door,  and  seemed  to  have  been  expecting  us,  for  he 
called  another  man,  who  led  us  up  the  great  stairway, 
and  through  a  grand  gallery  all  hung  with  weapons, 
bright  armor  and  pictures,  to  a  parlor,  where  Mistress 
Curtis  met  us  and  conducted  us  without  delay  to  the 
withdrawing-room  of  the  duchess.  The  room  was  a 
small  one,  but  so  beautiful  with  silken  hangings/Turk- 
ish  rugs  and  other  ornaments,  that  it  was  like  a  casket 
prepared  for  some  precious  jewel;  and  wonderful,  in- 
deed, was  the  jewel  it  enshrined. 

"Good  morrow   to  you,  Mistress   Davis,"  said  a 
gay,  sweet  voice  ;  "  so,  my  good  Curtis  tells  roe,  you 


184  Loveday^s  History. 

have  purveyed  me  a  gentlewoman  who  is  quite  a 
paragon." 

"  No  paragon,  an'  it  please  your  Grace,  but  a  well- 
bred  and  discreet  young  lady,"  answered  Mistress 
Davis,  modestly  yet  without  servility. 

'*  So  much  the  better ;  1  shall  not  be  afraid  of  her. 
Look  up,  maiden,  and  let  me  see  you." 

I  raised  my  eyes  to  the  lady's  face  as  I  spoke,  and 
it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  I  was  dazzled.  She 
was  always  lovely  to  the  last  day  of  her  life,  but  at 
that  time  her  beauty  was  simply  wonderful.  Know- 
ing her  mother  to  have  been  a  Spanish  lady,  I  had 
expected  to  see  some  one  with  black  hair  and  an  oliv,e 
skin.  Instead  of  that,  the  Duchess  was  most  bril- 
liantly fair,  with  a  complexion  of  such  clearness  as  to 
show  the  delicate  blue  veins  about  her  temples,  while 
her  hair,  which  was  straight  and  surprisingly  abund- 
ant, was  of  the  loveliest  paly  gold.  I  have  since 
learned  that  this  brilliant  fairness  belongs  to  certain 
very  noble  families  in  Spain,  and  they  are  extremely 
proud  of  it  as  showing  their  pure  Gothic  descent. 
The  eyes  were  of  a  violet  blue,  large  and  well  opened; 
the  mouth  firm  in  outline,  with  a  host  of  dimples 
dancing  in  and  out  whenever  she  smiled. 

She  was  very  kind  and  even  playful  in  her  manner, 
yet  not  so  as  to  invite  any  unbecoming  freedom.  She 
questioned  me  about  my  accomplishments,  but  said 
kindly  that  she  would  not  ask  me  to  sing,  as  it  would 
hardly  be  a  fair  trial.  Then  she  asked  me  why  I 
wished  to  leave  my  present  home,  and  I  told  her — 
because  I  would  fain  earn  my  own  living  instead  of 
hanging  on  the  hands  of  Master  Davis. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  phoanix,  after  all,"  said  she, 


£Ter  Grace.  185 

laughing  merrily,  "  and  yet  I  could  wish  there  were 
more  of  your  kind.  How  is  it,  Mistress  Davis,  that 
you  have  not  found  a  husband  for  this  child." 

"  So  please  your  grace,  Loveday  might  have  had  a 
husband  had  she  so  chosen,  but  her  mind  was  not  to 
take  him,  and  beside  that,  we  had  no  authority  to  do 
so ;  neither  my  husband  nor  myself  would  force  a 
young  maid's  inclinations  in  such  a  matter.  I  have 
seen  too  much  of  that  in  my  day." 

(This  was  true,  though  I  forgot  to  mention  it  in 
the  proper  place.  A  good  merchant  with  quite  a  fam- 
ily of  children  had  proposed  for  me,  but  I  had  no 
mind  for  him.  Marry,  an'  I  could  have  taken  the 
children  and  the  house,  without  the  man,  I  would  have 
liked  it  well  enough  !) 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  said  the  Duchess.  "  As 
you  say,  it  is  done  far  too  often.  Well,  my  maiden, 
I  am  well  pleased  with  your  appearance  and  with  all 
that  I  hear  of  you.  When  can  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

I  told  her  I  knew  of  nothing  to  hinder  my  coming 
at  once. 

"  Very  well ;  my  good  Curtis  will  instruct  you  in 
your  duties,  and  see  that  you  are  provided  with  fitting 
apparel. 

"  Not  so,  please  your  Grace,"  said  Mistress  Davis. 
"  I  must  beg  the  privilege  of  myself  purveying  Love- 
day's  wardrobe  on  her  first  going  forth  into  the  world." 

"  As  you  please,  good  dame,"  said  the  Duchess  ; 
"  only  let  her  come  as  soon  as  possible.  Curtis,  will 
you  provide  some  refreshment  for  your  friends  and 
settle  every  thing  needful  with  them." 

We  made  our  obeisance  and  withdrew  to  Mistress 
Curtis's  own  apartment,  where  we  found  a  collation 


186  Loveday's  History. 

already  provided.  Now  that  the  thing  was  done,  I 
must  needs  confess  that  I  was  rather  scared,  and  be- 
gan to  wish  that  I  had  followed  my  first  plan  of  set- 
ting up  a  little  school.  I  had  never  associated  with 
great  ladies,  save  indeed  in  the  convent,  where  rank 
was  not  much  considered.  I  began  to  wonder  how  I 
should  ever  find  my  way  about  these  long  galleries 
and  staircases,  and  whether  I  should  ever  feel  at  home 
with  my  new  mistress.  However,  I  reflected  that,  after 
all,  these  fine  things  were  but  passing  shows,  and  the 
people  I  should  have  to  deal  with  were  men  and 
women,  and — what  was  most  comforting — that  the 
best  Help  and  Shelter  of  all  would  be  with  me  as  much 
in  these  grand  halls  as  in  my  room  at  Master  Davis's, 
and  by  dint  of  such  reflections  and  lifting  up  my  heart 
in  prayer,  I  was  prepared  to  hear  and  understand 
when  Mistress  Curtis  was  ready  to  talk  with  me  about 
my  duties. 

These  were  simple  enough.  I  found  that  I  was  re- 
quired to  take  my  turn  with  the  other  gentlewomen 
in  attending  upon  her  Grace  in  her  chamber  and  help- 
ing her  to  dress,  to  stand  behind  her  chair  at  meal- 
times and  when  her  Grace  received  or  went  into  com- 
pany, and,  above  all,  to  entertain  my  mistress  with 
reading  and  music  whenever  she  was  inclined. 

"  I  think  you  will  agree  with  the  other  waiting  gentle- 
woman, Mistress  Emily  Mandeville,  very  well,"  said 
Mistress  Curtis.  "  She  is  a  good  creature,  and  wholly 
devoted  to  her  lady.  As  to  the  rest  of  the  household, 
you  will  have  little  to  do  with  them.  You  will  have 
your  own  room,  to  which  you  may  retire  when  off 
duty,  and  you  will  share  this  parlor  with  myself  and 
Mistress  Mandeville.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  you 


Her  Grace.  187 

are  expected,  when  in  her  Grace's  apartment,  to  hear 
all  and  say  nothing,  and  I  trust  you  need  no  warning 
against  gossiping  and  repeating  conversation  out  of 
the  house." 

"  I  trust  not,  indeed,  madam  !  "  I  answered,  feeling 
my  cheeks  grow  hot  at  the  very  idea  that  such  a  cau- 
tion was  needful.  "  I  am  not  likely  to  tattle,  seeing  I 
know  no  one  in  London  but  Mistress  Davis  and  her 
family,  who  are  not  likely  to  tempt  me  to  such  base- 
ness." 

"  Nay,  be  not  so  warm ! "  said  Mistress  Curtis, 
smiling.  "  There  was  no  accusation  in  my  words, 
only  a  warning,  which  is  quite  a  different  matter." 

"  I  ask  pardon,  madam  ! "  I  answered,  feeling 
ashamed  of  my  hastiness.  "  Quickness  of  temper  is 
my  failing,  but  I  trust,  by  God's  grace,  to  correct  it  in 
time." 

"  Tis  half  the  battle  to  know  one's  fault,"  gently 
answered  Mistress  Curtis  ;  "  but  yet  I  counsel  you, 
maiden,  to  strive  with  all  your  might  against  it.  A 
hasty  temper  often  does  more  harm  in  five  minutes 
than  can  be  undone  by  the  bitter  repentance  of  a  life- 
time." 

I  thought  I  had  too  much  reason  to  know  that. 

"  I  never  thought  it  so  bad  a  fault  as  some  others — 
as  lying  and  deceit ! "  observed  Mistress  Davis. 

"  True,  sister.  Deceit  is  to  all  other  faults  as 
the  King's  Evil*  to  other  diseases.  It  infects  the 
whole  soul  as  that  the  whole  body,  blood,  flesh  and 
bone,  and  one  never  knows  when  it  may  break  out  or 

*  What  we  now  call  scrofula.  It  was  named  King's  Evil 
from  the  fact  that  the  Kings  of  England  were  believed  to  have 
the  power  of  curing  it. 


188  Loveday's  History. 

what  form  it  may  take.  But  there  is  no  single,  fault 
which,  when  indulged,  does  not  drag  a  chain  of  other 
sins  along  with  it.  Learn,  then,  to  rule  thy  spirit, 
dear  maiden,  and  so  to  be  greater  than  he  that  taketh 
a  city,  as  the  wise  man  says.  Now,  as  to  a  less  im- 
portant matter,  but  yet  one  of  weight,  especially  with 
young  maids — your  clothes  ! "  she  added,  smiling. 

"  If  it  please  you,  madam,  do  you  and  my  Aunt 
Davis  settle  that  between  you,"  I  answered.  "  I  am 
sure  you  will  know  best." 

"  Why,  so  we  will.  Meantime,  you  may  go  into  the 
next  room,  where  you  will  find  an  instrument,  some 
music  books,  and  other  volumes  with  which  you  may 
amuse  yourself." 

I  rose,  nothing  loth,  and  passed  into  the  next  room  ; 
a  very  pretty  one  with  an  oriel  window,  and  having 
a  lute  and  virginals*  and  a  pile  of  music  books, 
and  looking  these  over  I  discovered  a  book  of  the 
psalms  in  French  meter  with  music  attached.  I 
could  not  forbear  trying  these  with  the  spinet,  and 
was  so  much  engaged  with  them  that  I  started  as  if 
shot  when  some  one  opened  the  door.  I  rose  in  some 
confusion,  when  I  found  my  visitor  was  a  tall,  stately 
gentlemen,  splendidly  dressed,  but  one  who  would 
have  shown  his  dignity  in  any  weeds. 

"  I  crave  pardon  for  startling  you,  fair  lady,"  said 
he,  with  a  gesture  of  courtesy.  "  I  was  looking  for 
Mistress  Curtis,  and  hearing  your  voice,  my  curiosity 
would  not  be  satisfied  without  seeing  the  singer. 
Pray,  good  Curtis " — as  she  entered  by  the  other 

*  The  spinet,  clarichord  and  virginals  were  all  ancestors  of  the 
piano-forte.  See  a  very  interesting  article  in  Macmillau's  En- 
glish Magazine  for  January,  1884. 


Her  Grace.  189 

door — "what  fair  lady  is  this  who  sings  so  charm- 
ingly?" 

Mistress  Curtis  explained  the  matter.  I  had 
guessed  already  that  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  the 
Duke  of  Suffolk.  He  heard  her  to  the  end,  glancing 
at  me  now  and  then,  as  I  stood  withdrawn  into  the 
recess  of  the  window. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  he.  "  I  have  every  reason  to 
trust  your  discretion,  my  good  Curtis,  and  glad  I  am 
that  my  dear  wife's  love  of  music  should  be  so  grati- 
fied. What  did  you  call  the  young  lady's  name  ?  " 

"  Loveday  Corbet,  your  Grace." 

"  Corbet—  Corbet !  "  he  repeated,  musingly.  "  That 
is  a  west  country  name  and  a  good  old  family.  Come 
you  from  Devon,  Mistress  Corbet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,"  I  answered.  "  My  father  was 
a  gentleman  of  North  Devon,  though  I  believe  his 
father  removed  to  London  before  he  was  born." 

"  Have  you  any  friends  there  living  at  present  ?" 

"  None,  your  Grace,  now  that  my  Lady  Peckham  is 
dead.  Her  first  husband  was  a  distant  kinsman  of 
my  father's." 

"  Corbet — I  have  heard  the  name  lately,  but  I  can- 
not place  it,"  said  he.  "Well,  my  young  lady,  I 
trust  you  may  be  happy  and  useful  in  this  house. 
Your  mistress  is  a  most  lovely  lady,  and  easily 
pleased.  Let  me  give  you  a  token  to  hansel  your 
first  entrance  into  my  family." 

So,  saying  he  placed  a  gold  piece  in  my  hand,  and 
then  turned  away  and  left  the  room.  Such  was  my 
first  sight  of  Charles  Brandon,  the  good  Duke  of 
Suffolk,  and  ever  to  my  mind  the  very  mirror  of  all 
knightly  and  manly  virtues. 


190  Loveday's  History. 

I  went  home  in  a  somewhat  dazed  and  bewildered 
frame  of  mind,  but  once  in  the  solitude  of  my  own 
room,  I  soon  composed  myself  and  was  ready  to  meet 
Master  Hall's  jokes  and  Philippa's  bitter  gibes  on 
my  promotion  with  equal  serenity.  Indeed,  however 
full  of  fun  and  merriment  Master  Hall  might  be,  he 
never  forgot  to  be  kind.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  bear 
the  children's  remonstrances  and  tears,  especially 
those  of  my  own  little  pupil,  Helen,  a  tender,  spirited 
little  maid,  who  had  become  very  dear  to  me,  but  the 
matter  was  settled  now,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it. 
And,  indeed,  considering  the  whole  affair  calmly  in  my 
chamber,  I  did  not  wish  to  help  it.  I  was  convinced 
that  I  had  done  right  in  relieving  Master  Davis  of  my 
maintenance.  I  also  felt  sure  of  a  faithful  friend  and 
counselor  in  Mistress  Curtis.  I  was  charmed  with  my 
new  master  and  mistress,  and  saw  no  reason  why  I  need 
not  be  happy  in  serving  them.  I  had  a  little  my  doubts 
of  my  companion  in  waiting,  Mistress  Mandeville. 
I  thought  she  looked  prim  and  formal,  but  I  would  not 
allow  myself  to  be  set  against  her  beforehand.  Yes, 
I  believed  I  had  acted  wisely,  and  I  was  content  to  leave 
the  result  of  my  action  in  the  hands  of  Him  whom  I 
had  learned  to  consider  my  best  friend.  I  knew  I 
should  always  have  the  Davis  family  and  Margaret 
Hall  to  fall  back  upon  if  I  needed  such  support. 
They  had  already  done  for  me  more  than  I  could 
ever  repay,  were  it  only  in  bringing  me  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  Scriptures.  Margaret,  especially,  had 
opened  to  me  a  great  new  world  of  thought,  which 
could  never  be  closed  again,  happen  what  might. 
Surely  God  had  been  very  good  to  me,  though  for  so 
many  years  I  had  never  learned  to  love  Him — never 


Her  Grace.  191 

thought  of  Him  if  I  could  help  it,  and  then  only  as 
one  to  be  dreaded  and  propitiated  if  possible,  and 
who,  if  I  only  made  myself  uncomfortable  enough, 
might  perhaps  be  won  at  least  not  utterly  to  destroy 
me.  Let  those  testify  who  know  by  their  own  expe- 
rience, what  a  change  is  made  in  the  life  when  God's 
love  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts. 

But  I  must  hasten  on  to  my  tale.  'Tis  the  nature 
of  old  folk  to  be  garrulous,  and  I  find  I  am  no  excep- 
tion to  the  rule,  especially  when  I  have  a  pen  in  my 
hand. 

Just  a  week  from  my  first  visit  to  Suffolk  House,  I 
betook  myself  thither,  accompanied  by  Mistress  Davis, 
and  followed  by  one  of  the  men  bearing  my  bundles. 
My  great  mail  was  to  come  later  in  the  day.  I  re- 
member St.  George's  clock  was  just  striking  nine  as 
we  passed  near  it,  and  I  saw  a  poor  woman,  whom  I 
knew  at  once  had  been  a  religious  of  some  kind, 
standing  under  the  porch.  I  had  some  loose  silver 
in  my  pocket,  and  I  could  not  forbear  putting  a 
couple  of  groats  into  her  hand.  She  started  and  col- 
ored, and  then  thanked  me  eagerly,  and  turned 
quickly  away.  In  a  moment  more  we  saw  her  enter 
a  baker's  shop  close  by. 

"  Poor  thing,  did  she  not  look  hungry  ?  "  said  Mis- 
tress Davis.  "You  have  given  her  one  good  meal,  at 
all  events." 

"  She  is,  or  rather  has  been,  a  religious,"  said  I. 
"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  Very  like,  very  like  !  I  must  try  and  speak 
with  her  when  I  come  back.  Theirs  is  a  hard  fate, 
poor  souls  ! " 

"  Yes,  they  do  not  all  fall  into  such  warm  nests  as 


192  Loveday^s  History. 

I  did  !  "  I  could  not  help  saying,  whereat  she  squeezed 
my  hand  lovingly.  I  heard  afterward  that  she  saw 
the  woman,  and  finding  her  clever  with  her  needle, 
she  got  her  work  that  made  the  poor  sister  very  com- 
fortable. Helping  one  out  of  the  hundreds  who  were 
in  need,  was  like  helping  one  fly  when  hundreds  are 
drowning,  yet  is  it  altogether  better  for  that  one  fly 
than  if  you  were  to  leave  him  to  drown  too.  I  took 
leave "  of  my  dear  Aunt  Davis,  and  certainly  I  did 
feel  rather  forlorn  as  I  applied  to  the  fat,  surly,  con- 
sequential porter  at  the  hall-door  to  be  led  to  Mistress 
Curtis.  However,  he  was  very  civil — like  master, 
like  man — and  I  soon  found  myself  conducted  into 
my  own  little  room  and  left  to  prepare  myself  to 
attend  my  mistress  at  dinner.  It  was  by  no  means 
as  sumptuous  as  my  room  at  Master  Davis  his  house, 
but  yet  comfortable  enough.  There  was  a  small  bed 
hung  with  blue  stuff,  a  joint  stool,  chair  and  small 
table  with  a  mirror  hung  above  it.  And  in  one  cor- 
ner was  a  sort  of  cabinet,  with  drawers,  for  my  clothes. 
The  window  commanded  a  pleasant  view.  The  maid 
who  attended  to  help  me  unpack  my  goods,  told  me 
that  Mistress  Mandeville's  room  was  next  mine. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  I  asked,  as  an  elderly  lady,  dressed 
in  deep,  but  old-fashioned,  black  passed  me,  giving 
me  a  keen  glance  as  she  did  so. 

"  That  is  Mistress  Patience.  She  was  a  great  friend 
of  her  Grace's  mother — I  have  heard  say  she  attended 
on  Queen  Katherine,  and  was  left  in  great  misery 
after  her  death,  till  her  Grace  found  her.  She  hath 
been  in  clover  ever  since,  but  some  think  she  is  not 
quite  right  in  her  mind." 

I  looked  with  great  interest  at  the  old  lady,  as  she 


Her  Grace.  193 

walked  to  the  end  of  the  gallery,  seemingly  only  for 
the  exercise.  As  she  met  and  passed  me  in  returning, 
she  dropped  her  stick  ;  I  picked  it  up  quickly  and  put 
it  into  her  hand,  whereat  she  gave  me  another 
keen  glance  and  thanked  me,  adding  in  a  clear 
though  trembling  voice,  and  a  somewhat  foreign 
accent  : 

"  You  are  my  new  neighbor,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  madam  !  "  I  answered. 

"  Ay.  Well,  be  faithful  and  you  shall  have  your 
reward . " 

I  courtesied  and  followed  my  guide  down  the  stairs, 
noting  carefully  all  the  turns,  that  I  might  be  able  to 
find  my  way  back.  Mistress  Curtis  greeted  me  kindly, 
saying  I  was  just  in  time  to  attend  my  mistress  at 
dinner.  Accordingly,  she  led  me  to  the  duchess  her 
withdrawing- room,  where  I  found  her  splendidly 
dressed  and  beautiful  as  ever. 

"  So,  here  is  my  singing  bird  ! "  said  she.  "  We 
must  make  trial  of  your  gifts  by  and  by.  Meantime, 
be  you  acquainted  with  Mistress  Mandeville,  your 
companion  in  service." 

Mistress  Mandoville  courtesied  and  said  something 
civil.  She  was  of  medium  height,  with  eyes  of  that 
sort  which  seem  to  have  no  particular  color,  a  reason- 
ably good  skin  and  features,  and  she  carried  herself 
remarkably  well.  She  passed  for  a  model  of  pru- 
dence, propriety,  and  all  the  other  good  Ps,  because 
she  never  expressed  an  opinion  of  her  own,  and, 
indeed,  never  talked  if  she  could  help  it.  I  lived  in 
the  house  with  her  six  months,  and  did  not  know  her 
one  bit  better  at  the  end  of  the  time  than  at  the  be- 
ginning. But  we  never  had  an  unpleasant  word,  and 


194  Loveday^s  History. 

I  really  think  she  liked  me  as  well  as  she  knew  how 
to  like  any  body. 

We  stood  behind  our  lady's  chair  at  the  dinner, 
which  was  very  splendid  and  well  furnished,  with 
guests  of  great  quality.  The  Duke  entertained  many 
gentlemen  in  his  household,  and  the  expenses  of  the 
table  alone  were  something  fabulous.  As  I  glanced 
down  the  long  board,  I  saw  at  the  lower  end  a  face 
and  figure  which  seemed  at  once  to  take  me  back  to 
childish  days  at  Peckham  Hall.  The  dress  was  that 
of  a  priest,  but  I  could  not  see  the  face  plainly  for  a 
great  burly  count  from  the  Low  Countries  who  sat 
above.  The  glimpse  I  had,  excited  me  to  a  lively 
curiosity,  and  I  longed  for  another,  but  when  I  looked 
again  the  priest  had  left  the  board. 

"  Now  we  shall  have  our  dinner,"  said  Mrs.  Mande- 
ville,  with  some  appearance  of  interest.  (It  was  the 
only  subject  on  which  she  ever  did  show  any  anima- 
tion.) "  I  hope  they  have  not  eaten  up  all  the  stur- 
geon." 

I  felt  for  a  moment  foolishly  humiliated  at  having 
to  sit  down  to  the  board  after  others  had  finished,  but 
I  might  have  spared  myself  that  mortification,  for  I 
found  that  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  attendant  directly 
upon  the  Duke  and  Duchess  dined  in  a  chamber  by 
themselves,  and  as  well  as  any  one  at  the  great  board, 
if  they  chose.  It  was  a  fast  day,  and  I,  who  was  ac- 
customed to  keep  the  fasts  and  feasts  of  the  church, 
was  surprised  to  see  the  delicacies  which  were  served 
to  us.  Mistress  Curtis  presided  at  the  board  and  kept 
order,  yet  was  there  abundance  of  lively  conversation 
among  the  young  gentlemen.  Only  when  it  seemed 
verging  upon  too  much  freedom  did  Mistress  Curtis, 


Her  Grace.  195 

smilingly,  call  them  to  order..  There  were  half  a 
dozen  pages  of  noble,  or  at  least  gentle,  birth,  who 
were  being  bred  up  in  the  Duke's  household,  and  in- 
structed in  all  sorts  of  manly  exercises  in  the  tilt- 
yard  and  manege,  besides  what  book-learning  they  got 
with  a  master  entertained  for  the  purpose.  Two  or 
three  of  these  were  little  lads  of  an  age,  as  it  seemed, 
to  be  under  their  mothers,  and  it  pleased  me  to  see 
how  these  children  came  about  Mistress  Curtis  when 
the  meal  was  done,  and  how  kindly  she  spoke  to  them. 
One  of  them  had  been  crying,  and,  on  being  ques- 
tioned, owned  that  he  had  been  in  difficulties  with  his 
tutor  on  account  of  certain  pronouns  whereof  he  could 
by  no  means  understand  the  declensions. 

"  Bring  your  book  to  me,"  I  ventured  to  say,  (I 
knew  I  had  an  hour  to  myself  at  this  time)  "and,  with 
Mistress  Curtis's  leave,  I  will  see  if  I  can  help  you." 

"  Do  so,  Roger,  since  Mistress  Corbet  is  so  kind," 
added  Mistress  Curtis.  The  little  fellow — he  was  no 
more  than  seven  years  old — brightened  up  and  ran  off 
for  his  book. 

"  Law's  me,  Mistress  Corbet,  what  pleasure  can 
there  be  in  spending  your  play-hour  over  a  Latin 
grammar  and  a  stupid  lad  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mandeville. 

"  Oh  I  like  teaching,  and  I  remember  mine  own 
troubles  with  these  same  declensions,"  said  I  ;  and 
little  Roger  returning,  I  took  him  into  the  window- 
seat  and  soon  made  his  way  plain  for  him. 

"  Thank  you,  madam,"  said  the  child,  gratefully.  "  I 
wish  I  might  do  my  lessons  with  you  every  day. 
Master  Sprat  is  so  cross,  and  when  I  am  puzzled  he  says 
I  could  learn  if  I  would — but  I  can't  learn  unless  I  un- 
derstand. But  he  is  going  away  to  his  new  cure— r 


196  Loveday^s  History. 

much  good  may  it  do  him,"  said  Roger,  brighten- 
ing up,  "  and  perhaps  Master  Corbet  may  be  more 
good-natured." 

"  Corbet !"  said  I,  "  that  is  my  name. " 

"  It  is  our  new  master's  name,  too,  and  we  are  to 
begin  with  him  to-morrow." 

"  Then  see  that  you  have  your  task  well  conned, 
so  as  not  to  shame  your  mistress,"  said  I.  He 
was  such  a  baby  that  I  could  not  forbear  kissing 
his  round,  fair  cheek.  Then  I  betook  myself  to  Mis- 
tress Curtis's  parlor,  where  I  found  her,  and  also  Mis- 
tress Mandeville,  who  was  making  a  kerchief  at  the 
rate  of  ten  stitches  a  minute,  and  lifting  every  one  as 
though  she  were  prying  up  stones  with  a  crowbar.  It 
did  always  make  me  ache  to  see  her  sew.  "  Well  and 
what  of  your  pupil  ?  "  asked  Mistress  Curtis. 

"  Oh,  I  have  sent  him  away  happy,"  said  I.  " '  Tis 
a  fine  little  lad,  though  he  says  his  master  calls  him 
stupid  because  he  can  not  learn  what  he  does  not 
understand." 

"  I  dare  say.  He  is  a  crabbed,  austere  man,  soured 
by  poverty  and  hard  study  before  he  came  here,  and 
his  temper  is  not  sweetened  by  the  tricks  the  mis- 
chievous lads  play  on  him.  But  he  goes  away  very 
soon  to  some  benefice  or  other.  By  the  way,  the  new 
tutor  has  the  same  name  as  your  own." 

"  So  little  Roger  tells  me,"  said  I.  "  I  had  a  distant 
cousin  of  that  name,  my  Lady  Peckham's  son,  who 
went  to  study  for  a  priest.  I  wonder  if  this  could 
possibly  be  the  same  ?  " 

"  This  young  man  hath  come  up  to  London,  as  I 
understand,  to  study  the  Hebrew  tongue,"  said  Mis- 
tress Curtis, 


Her  Grace.  197 

"  Dear  me,  why  should  he  want  to  learn  Hebrew  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Mandeville.  "  He  is  not  a  Jew,  is  he  ?  " 

"  If  he  were,  he  would  probably  know  Hebrew  with- 
out learning  it,"  answered  Mistress  Curtis.  (Somehow 
Mrs.  Mandeville's  stupid  speeches  always  did  seem  to 
put  her  out  of  temper.)  "  I  suppose  he  wishes  to 
study  the  Scripture  in  the  original  tongue." 

"Well,  I  would  not  like  to  know  so  many  strange 
tongues  and  things.  I  should  be  afraid  of  being 
burned  for  a  wizard." 

"  That  would  be  a  waste  of  faggots,  certainly,"  re- 
turned Mistress  Curtis,  dryly.  "But  there  is  the  clock. 
Young  ladies,  it  is  time  you  went  to  your  mistress." 

Mrs.  Mandeville  led  the  way,  and  I  soon  found 
myself  behind  my  lady's  chair  in  the  great  withdraw- 
ing-room,  which  was  crowded  with  guests,  both  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  come  to  pay  their  court.  The  Duchess 
seemed  to  know  all,  and  have  a  pleasant  word  for  all. 
The  Duke  stood  near,  now  and  then  addressing  a 
word  to  his  wife,  and  there  was  ever  that  interchange 
of  loving  and  familiar  glances  so  pleasant  to  see  be- 
tween married  people.  He  was  more  than  old  enough 
to  be  her  father,  and,  indeed,  she  was  his  fourth  wife, 
his  third  having  been  the  Princess  Mary  of  England, 
the  king's  sister,  and  dowager  of  France.  It  was  on  the 
occasion  of  this  marriage  that  he  appeared  at  a 
tourney  in  a  dress  half  of  cloth  of  gold  and  half  of 
frieze,  with  this  motto  : 

"  Cloth  of  frieze  be  not  too  bold, 
Though  thou  be  matched  with  cloth  of  gold. 
Cloth  of  gold  do  not  despise 
Though  thou  be  matched  with  cloth  of  frieze." 

It    was    said    all   his    marriages    had   been    love 


198  Looeday^s  History. 

matches,  and  I  could  easily  believe  it,  for  a  nobler 
pattern  of  a  man  I  never  saw.  He  was  the  model  of 
all  knightly  and  gracious  exercises  in  tourney  and 
field,  having  gained  more  than  one  victory  by  his 
prowess,  and  he  was  counted  equally  wise  and  dis- 
creet in  the  council  hall.  He  was  also  a  great  patron 
of  the  new  learning  and  a  protector  of  those  who 
followed  it,  nor  did  he  disdain  the  more  trifling  arts 
of  music  and  painting.  I,  who  at  that  time  had 
never  seen  a  good  picture,  used  to  spend  half  my 
leisure  in  looking  at  those  which  the  duke  had 
brought  home  from  Italy  and  the  Low  Countries. 

Of  course,  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  stand  still  and 
use  my  eyes  and  ears.  It  was  the  grand  reception- 
day  of  the  week,  and  many  were  the  great  people  who 
thronged  the  splendid  rooms.  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore I  heard  the  name  of  Bishop  Gardiner,  and  I 
looked  with  eagerness  to  see  this  man  who  had  held 
such  an  influence  over  my  life.  In  he  came,  in  his 
rich  churchman's  habit,  all  smiling  civility.  I  believe 
I  should  have  hated  him  at  first  sight  if  I  had  not 
known  who  he  was.  He  was  followed  by  Father 
Simon,  his  chaplain,  whose  viper  face  I  knew  in  an 
instant.  He  advanced  at  once  to  pay  his  court  to  the 
duchess,  and  no  one  bowed  lower  than  he  or  was 
more  fulsome  in  his  flattery. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  and  how  goes  on  your  favorite 
pursuit  ? "  asked  the  Duchess  in  her  gay,  ringing 
voice.  -< 

"  To  what  does  your  grace  allude  ? "  asked  the 
bishop. 

"  Oh,  the  turning  out  of  nuns  and  monks.  We  all 
know  you  like  to  hunt  them  as  a  warrener  does 


Her  Grace.  199 

rabbits,  only   your  ferrets   are  learned  doctors  and 
divines." 

I  saw  Father  Simon's  face  darken  at  this  gibe,  but 
the  bishop  only  smiled. 

"  'Tis  said  the  chantries  are  next  to  go,"  con- 
tinued the  Duchess,  in  the  same  gay  voice.  "  I  much 
wonder,  my  lord,  what  kind  of  reception  you  expect 
to  meet  with  in  Purgatory.  Will  not  the  poor  souls 
who  are  waiting  to  be  sung  out  of  their  pains  fall 
upon  him  who  hath  so  cruelly  deprived  them  of  their 
means  of  escape  ?  " 

"Let  me  remind  you,  my  love,  that  these  are 
hardly  fit  subjects  for  jesting,"  said  the  Duke,  gently. 
"  My  lord,  have  you  seen  his  majesty  within  a  day. 
His  physician,  Dr.  Butts,  tells  me  he  is  ill  at  ease." 

Thus  he  turned  the  talk  into  another  channel, 
while  my  mistress,  though  she  seemed  to  pout  for  a 
moment,  soon  recovered  her  gayety,  and  began  again 
chatting  on  indifferent  subjects.  As  for  the  bishop, 
he  never  showed  one  particle  of  annoyance  either  at 
this  time  or  on  other  similar  occasions.  But  "  what 
was  fristed  was  not  forgotten,"  as  old  ladies  used  to 
say,  and  he  made  the  sweet  lady  pay  dearly  for  her 
gibes  :  marry,  'twas  through  no  good  will  of  his  that 
she  did  not  atone  for  them  with  her  life. 

When  the  company  were  gone,  my  mistress  bade 
me  sit  down  to  the  instrument  and  play  and  sing  to 
divert  her  and  her  husband.  I  did  my  best,  and  her 
Grace  was  pleased  to  praise  me  very  highly,  saying 
that  my  voice  was  one  of  the  finest  she  had  ever 
heard. 

"  The  voice  is  not  the  only  beauty,"  said  the  Duke. 
"  Mistress  Corbet  sings  with  expression,  without  which 


200  Loveday^s  History. 

the  best  voice  is  *  but  as  sounding  brass  and  a  tink- 
ling cymbal/  as  the  apostle  says.  What  other  songs 
do  you  know  ? '  " 

I  told  him  not  many,  as  I  had  learned  in  the 
convent,  where  we  had  none  but  sacred  music.  He 
then  bade  some  one  fetch  a  book  of  French  Psalms 
from  which  I  had  been  playing,  and  he  was  pleased 
to  join  his  voice  with  me  in  some  of  them. 

"  These  psalms  are  greatly  sung  in  France,"  said 
he.  "  One  hears  them  both  in  palace  and  cottage.  I 
would  some  one  would  do  as  much  for  the  psalms  in 
English,  that  they  might  replace  the  ribaldry  one 
hears  every  where."  ' 

"  It  may  be  done  some  time — who  knows  ?  "  said 
the  Duchess.  "  Go  you  abroad  to-night,  my  sweet 
lord?" 

"  I  must  needs  do  so,  since  the  king  commands,"  he 
answered.  "  And  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  Stay  at  home  to  play  with  my  babes,  like  a  good 
housewife,"  said  she,  with  a  smile,  "  and  perhaps  to 
visit  poor  Mistress  Patience,  whom  I  have  not  seen 
for  two  days." 

"  I  perceived  the  old  lady  was  not  at  table." 

"  No,  she  is  ill  at  ease,  poor  soul.  I  think  not  she 
will  live  long." 

"  It  is  hardly  to  be  wished.  Good-by,  then, 
sweetheart." 

When  the  duke  had  gone,  his  wife  rose  and  bid- 
ding us  attend  her,  she  went  first  to  the  nursery, 
where  I  saw  her  two  little  sons,  of  four  and  five 
years,  lovely  buds  of  that  noble  stem,  destined  to  be 
blighted  in  their  earliest  bloom  by  the  dreadful 
sweating-sickness.  They  were  s \voot,  well-governed 


Her  Grace.  201 

children,  overjoyed  to  see  their  beautiful  mother, 
and  coming  with  shy  grace  to  speak  to  me  when  bade 
to  do  so.  Presently  the  elder  boy  asked  his  mother 
when  sister  Frances  was  coming  home,  and  I  then 
learned  for  the  first  time  that  the  duke  had  an  un- 
married daughter  by  his  third  wife,  Margaret  of  En- 
gland, who  was  now  visiting  some  lady  about  the 
court. 

I  was  in  a  hurry  for  supper  to  come  now,  hoping  I 
might  see  in  the  new  tutor  my  old  friend  and  play- 
mate, and  then  telling  myself  how  silly  I  was  to  pre- 
pare such  a  disappointment.  But  I  was  not  destined 
to  be  disappointed.  The  Duke  being  away,  the  whole 
family  sat  down  to  supper  together,  and  the  very  first 
sight  convinced  me  that  Walter  Corbet  was  before 
me.  He  had  grown  older,  of  course,  and  looked  thin 
and  worn,  but  there  was  the  old  expression  of  peace- 
ful firmness  and  resolution  in  his  dark  eyes  and  in 
the  lines  of  his  mouth.  I  do  not  think  he  glanced  at 
me  till  the  Duchess  addressed  some  kind  word  to 
him,  when  he  looked  up  and  our  eyes  met.  Even 
then  he  did  not  recognize  me  at  once,  and  no  great 
wonder,  as  he  had  not  seen  me  since  I  was  eight 
years  old  ;  yet  his  eyes  lingered  on  ray  face  with  a 
puzzled  expression,  which  the  Duchess  observing, 
(as  she  always  saw  every  thing,)  said  : 

"  Master  Corbet,  my  new  gentlewoman  hath  the 
same  name  as  yourself  and  comes  also  from  the 
West  Country.  It  may  be  you  are  of  kin." 

I  could  not  but  smile  at  his  look  of  bewilderment, 
and  seeing  he  was  still  uncertain,  I  touched  with  my 
finger  a  small  but  deep  scar  on  my  brow,  which  I  had 
gotten  in  one  of  our  childish  expeditions  after  nuts. 


202  Loveday^s  History. 

"  Surely  !  "  gaid  lie,  "  this  cannot  be  my  little  cousin 
Loveday,  who  used  to  live  at  Peckhara  Hall  with  my 
mother  ?  " 

"  Even  so,"  I  answered,  as  my  mistress's  eye  and 
smile  gave  me  leave  to  speak.  "  I  knew  you  in  a 
moment ;  but  then  you  are  changed  less  than  I." 

"  And  you  are  little  Loveday,"  said  he,  as  though 
he  could  hardly  believe  it  even  yet. 

"Not  so  very  little  at  present,"  said  the  Duchess. 
"You  must  make  acquaintance,  since  you  are  old 
friends  and  kinsfolk." 

This  was  all  that  passed  at  that  time.  The  evening 
was  spent  in  reading  aloud  to  my  mistress  and  play- 
ing of  cards,  about  which  I  knew  nothing  till  she 
taught  me,  and  which  I  never  learned  to  like.  The 
Duchess,  not  being  very  well,  went  to  bed  early,  and 
I  waited  on  her  to  her  chamber  and  helped  her  to 
undress,  as  was  part  of  my  duty.  My  service,  how- 
ever, was  not  much  more  than  nominal,  as  she  had  an 
old  maid-servant  who  had  attended  her  since  she  was 
a  child.  She  then  dismissed  me,  and  I  went  to  bed, 
feeling  more  tired  than  I  had  ever  done  in  my  life. 

Next  morning  I  was  astir  in  good  time.  I  had  been 
used,  of  late,  to  read  a  portion  in  the  Bible  every 
morning,  and,  as  the  sun  shone  pleasantly  into  the  gal- 
lery, and  my  room  was  something  dark,  I  ventured  to 
walk  up  and  down  there,  while  reading  in  St.  John's 
Gospel.  I  had  not  done  so  long,  when  a  door  opened, 
and  the  old  lady  I  had  heard  called  Mistress  Pa- 
tience, put  her  head  out. 

"  Can  I  do  aught  for  you,  madam  ?  "  I  asked,  seeing 
her  looking  as  if  she  would  call  somebody. 

"  Oh,  I  would  not  trouble  you,  Mistress 1  forget 


Her  Grace.  203 

your  name,"  answered  the  old  lady.  "I  was  but 
looking  for  the  woman  who  helps  me  to  dress  ;  I  am 
rheumatic,  as  you  see.  She  is  long  in  coming,  I  think, 
or  else  I  am  earlier  than  my  wont." 

"It  has  not  yet  gone  six  by  the  church-bell,"  said  I. 
"  But,  Mistress  Patience,  please  let  me  help  you  ; 
I  shall  love  to  do  so." 

"Nay,  child,  'tis  no  office  for  such  as  thou — thou 
a  gentlewom.tn." 

"  I  am  a  Christian,"  I  answered  ;  "  and  what  should 
such  do  but  help  each  other?  Besides,  I  shall  like  it. 
It  will  remind  me  of  the  time  when  I  used  to  help 
dear  Sister  Sacristine,  in  the  convent.  Please  allow 
me." 

The  old  lady  consented,  and  I  helped  her  to  dress. 
She  was  much  crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  I  feared 
hurting  her  ;  but  I  suppose  I  did  not,  for  she  said  I 
was  a  deft  maid. 

"  And  what  book  have  you  there?  "said  she,  as  I 
took  up  the  volume  I  had  laid  on  the  table.  I  told 
her. 

"  What,  you  are  an  heretic,  then  ?  "  said  she,  sharply. 

" Nay,  madam,  why  should  you  think  so?"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  Because  you  read  the  Bible,  like  that  snake-in-the- 
grass  that  brought  my  dear  mistress  to  her  doom. 
Away,  I  have  naught  to  do  with  heretics.  They  mur- 
dered my  dear  mistress." 

"  But,  dear  madam,  listen  a  moment,"  said  I.  "  Don't 
you  know  that  both  Luther  and  Tyndale  wrote  against 
the  king's  divorce  of  Queen  Katherine,  as  did  many 
others  whom  men  call  heretics?  For  myself,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  judge  of  state  matters,  being  nothing 


204  Loveday's  History. 

but  a  simple  maid,  but  my  heart  hath  ever  been  with 
your  mistress.  And  you  know  it  was  the  great  Cardi- 
nal who  first  helped  on  the  matter  of  the  divorce.  I 
have  heard  say  that  the  queen  herself  accused  him  of 
blowing  the  coal  betwixt  her  and  the  king." 

"So  she  did,  so  she  did,  poor  soul  !"  said  the  old 
lady,  relenting  a  little.  "But,  oh,  my  maiden,  for 
your  soul's  sake,  beware  of  heresy,  and  of  reading 
and  judging  in  matters  too  high  for  you.  It  is  that 
which  is  drawing  down  vengeance  on  this  realm." 

I  soothed  her,  as  well  as  I  could,  and,  getting  her 
comfortably  seated  in  her  great  chair,  I  fetched  my 
"  Imitation,"  and  read  to  her  a  few  minutes. 

"  There  is  the  bell,  Mistress  Corbet,"  said  she,  as  a 
bell  rang  in  the  gallery.  "  You  must  go,  but  you  will 
come  again,  won't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed  !"  said  I,  venturing  to  kiss  her  fore- 
head ;  whereat  she  gave  me  a  smile  and  her  blessing. 

As  I  have  said,  breakfast  was  not  at  that  time  the 
serious  matter  it  has  since  become.  I  had  been  bidden 
to  repair  to  the  small  dining-room  for  mine,  and  did  so. 
There,  to  my  great  joy,  I  found  Walter,  eating  his 
bread  and  milk,  with  a  book  open  by  his  basin,  as  he 
used  to  do  at  the  hall.  It  may  be  guessed  that  we 
found  plenty  to  say  to  each  other.  He  told  me  that 
the  hall  was  shut  up  and  empty,  save  for  the  old 
servants  who  staid  to  look  after  it.  Sir  John  Lam- 
bert, with  whom  he  had  studied,  had  gone  abroad  to 
save  his  life,  being  accused  of  heresy,  and  he,  himself, 
had  had  a  narrow  escape  from  the  clutches  of  Father 
Barnaby. 

"I  know  not  how  he  let  me  go,  only  that 
he  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  burn  so  good 


Her  Grace.  205 

a  Latinist,"  said  he,  smiling.  "When  my  kind 
friend  went  abroad  I  betook  myself  to  my  parish 
of  Coombe  Ashton,  and  there  I  have  lived  till  now. 
But  I  have  left  my  cure  in  good  hands,  and  am  come 
up  to  London,  for  a  time,  to  study  the  Greek  and  He- 
brew to  more  advantage.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk  hath 
kindly  given  me  a  place  in  his  household,  where  I  hope 
to  serve  well  both  my  earthly  and  Heavenly  Master. 
But  now  tell  me  of  yourself.  Where  have  you  been, 
all  these  years  ?  " 

"  'Tis  a  long  tale,"  said  I.  "  I  can  only  give  you 
the  outlines  thereof,"  which  I  did,  only  saying  naught 
of  the  cause  which  sent  me  from  London  to  Dart- 
ford. 

"  But,  Walter,"  I  added  ('twas  a  wonder  to  see  how 
easily  we  went  back  to  the  old  names),  "  how  does 
it  happen  that  you  have  not  heard  all  this  before  ? 
Did  you  not  care  enough  for  your  old  playmate  to 
ask  your  mother  about  her  ?  " 

Walter's  face  clouded,  and  I  saw  that  I  had  touched 
on  a  tender  chord. 

"My  mother  and  myself  have  seen  very  little  of 
each  other  of  late,"  said  he,  sadly.  "  You  know  she 
was  somewhat  arbitrary  in  her  disposition  (I  thought 
I  did,  indeed),  and  she  was  greatly  displeased  with 
me  for  taking  up  with  the  new  learning,  and,  as  she 
said,  abetting  Sir  John  in  the  destroying  of  souls. 
She  made  the  price  of  her  blessing  the  abandonment 
of  my  most  dear  and  inward  convictions  of  truth, 
and  as  I  could  not  comply,  she  even  cast  me  off  and 
disinherited  me,  so  far  as  it  was  in  her  power  to  do 
so.  Think  you,  I  was  wrong  not  to  give  way  ?  " 

"  Whoso  loveth  his  father  or  mother  more  than  Me 


206  Lovedatfs  History. 

is  not  worthy  of  Me,"  said  I.  His  face  brightened  in 
a  moment,  and  he  said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"Then  you,  too,  are  a  reader  of  the  Evangel. 
Where  did  you  learn  that?" 

I  told  him,  adding,  "  I  do  wish  you  knew  the  Davis 
family.  They  are  the  best  people  in  the  world." 

"I  know  Master  Hall  and  his  wife,  at  least  to  speak 
to,"  said  he.  "  She  seems,  indeed,  like  a  most  gen- 
erous woman,  such  as  the  wise  man  calls  a  crown  to 
her  husband." 

"  But  did  your  mother  then  disinherit  you  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  So  far  as  it  was  in  her  power.  Sir  Edward  left 
me  certain  lands  which  were  not  entailed,  and  a  sum 
of  money,  and  I  had  a  small  inheritance  from  my 
own  father,  so  I  have  more  than  enough  for  all  my 
wants — except  books,"  he  added,  smiling  ;  then  sadly 
again:  "I  cared  not  for  the  inheritance,  but  it  was 
hard  to  want  a  mother's  last  blessing." 

"  It  was,  indeed.     But  what  do  you  here  ?" 

"The  duke  hath  given  me  a  place  as  master,  to 
teach  the  young  gentlemen  their  academe.  His  grace 
intimated  to  me  that  I  might  do  as  much  or  as  little 
as  I  would,  but  I  mean  to  earn  his  protection,  which 
is  of  great  value  to  me." 

The  entrance  of  Mistress  Mandeville  put  an  end  to 
our  talk  for  this  time.  The  day  was  spent  much  as 
the  last  had  been,  save  that  we  went  abroad  on  the 
river  with  our  mistress.  She  was  fond  of  the  water, 
and  went  out  almost  everyday,  and  as  I  liked  it  also, 
while  as  Mistress  Mandeville  was  terribly  afraid  of  it, 
I  came  to  be  her  usual  companion  in  these  expeditions. 

Kind  as  were  my  master  and  mistress,  and  much  as 


Her  Grace.  207 

I  learned  to  love  them,  it  was  a  trying  life,  and  one 
that  I  should  never  covet  for  a  daughter  of  mine.  It 
was  a  fatiguing,  find  yet  an  idle,  life.  Oh,  how  my 
fingers  used  to  ache  for  something  wherewith  to  busy 
themselves,  during  the  hours  when  I  stood  by  my 
mistress's  chair,  and  how  weary  grew  my  ears  of  the 
endless  tittle-tattle  of  compliment  and  repartee.  Some- 
times, indeed,  we  had  talk  which  was  worth  hearing. 
The  Duke  entertained  all  the  great  scholars  of  the  day, 
and  I  heard  many  discussions  which  made  me  forget 
all  my  weariness  and  disgust.  One  day  I  had  the 
great  pleasure  of  seeing  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Hooper, 
and  my  lady,  with  her  usual  kindness,  hearing  that 
we  were  acquainted,  made  an  opportunity  for  us  to 
talk  together.  He  told  me  he  had  seen  Master  Davis's 
family  the  day  before,  and  that  they  were  all  well. 

"And  you,  my  daughter,  how  fares  it  with  you?" 
he  asked,  gently.  "  I  do  not  mean  in  health,  since 
your  face  speaks  for  itself,  but  how  fares  it  with  your 
soul?  Do  you  keep  your  lamp  trimmed  and  burning 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  splendor,  and  yourself  as  one 
who  waiteth  for  the  bridegroom  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  try  to,"  I  answered,  feeling  the  tears 
very  near  mine  eyes.  "  But  I  do  find  it  hard,  many 
times,  to  collect  my  thoughts  and  keep  them  where 
they  should  be.  My  prayers  seem  forced,  and  as 
though  they  did  not  get  out  of  the  room." 

Dr.  Hooper  smiled.  "  They  have  no  need  to  do  so, 
perhaps,  since  He  to  whom  they  are  addressed  is  Him- 
self in  the  room.  But  tell  me,  do  you  at  such  times 
give  up  and  forbear  to  pray  for  that  time  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  have  done  so,"  I  answered,  blushing. 

"  And  do  you  not  find  prayer  and  meditation  all  the 


208  Lovedatfs  History. 

harder  the  next  time  for  such  omissions?"  he 
asked. 

I  confessed  that  it  was  so. 

"  And  so  it  will  ever  be,"  said  he.  "  Believe  me, 
daughter,  the  times  when  we  need  prayers  most  is 
when  we  enjoy  them  least.  Then  is  the  time  to  seek 
the  mercy  seat  more  earnestly  than  ever,  and  not  to 
leave  it  till  we  have  an  answer  of  peace.  Even 
though  your  prayers  are  but  matters  of  simple 
obedience,  they  are  of  infinite  value  to  your  own  soul. 
Tell  me,  is  there  not  some  charitable  work  that  you 
can  do  to  keep  the  springs  of  love  fresh  in  your  heart  ?  " 

I  thought  of  Mistress  Patience,  whom  I  had  some- 
what neglected  of  late,  excusing  myself  on  the  ground 
of  having  so  little  time  to  myself,  and  because  she 
was  often  fretful  and  hard  to  please. 

"  Yes  !  "  I  answered.  "  I  might  do  such  work  if  I 
chose — but— the  truth  is,  Dr.  Hooper,  in  the  multi- 
tude of  business  and  distractions  I  have  forgotten  God, 
and  He  I  fear  hath  forgotten  me." 

"  Do  you  not  believe  that,  dear  maid,"  said  Dr. 
Hooper,  earnestly.  "He  hath  not  forgotten  you, 
but  even  now  waits  for  you  to  return,  and  holds  open 
the  gate  that  you  may  enter.  Go  you  to  Him  before 
you  sleep,  in  penitence  and  prayer,  and  having  con- 
fessed your  sins  and  begged  for  pardon  and  cleansing, 
believe  that  you  have  them,  and  go  on  serving  your 
Heavenly  Master  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  not  ex- 
pecting thereby  to  win  salvation,  since  that  has  al- 
ready been  purchased  for  you,  but  that  you  may 
show  your  faith  by  your  works,  and  set  forward  the 
kingdom  of  your  Master." 

This  is  not  a  record  of  religious  experience  ;  but  I 


Her  Grace.  209 

may  just  say  that  1  followed  the  good  man's  advice, 
and  found  peace  in  so  doing.  The  next  morning  I 
was  up  early,  and  while  dressing  I  tried  to  think  of 
some  way  to  make  my  peace  with  Mistress  Patience, 
who,  I  knew,  had  felt  the  loss  of  those  attentions 
which  I  had  begun  by  giving  her.  At  last  a  plan 
struck  me,  which  I  hastened  to  put  into  execution. 
I  found  the  old  lady  dressed,  and  sitting  in  her  great 
chair. 

"  So,  Mistress  Corbet,  I  have  not  seen  you  for  long," 
said  she,  drawing  herself  up  ;  "but  I  am  nobody 
now — only  a  poor  old  woman  whom  nobody  cares 
for.  I  thought  at  first  you  were  going  to  be  like  a 
daughter  to  me,  but  I  see  how  it  is." 

"Now  you  discourage  me,"  said  I,  feeling  her  re- 
proach all  the  more  that  1  deserved  it.  "  I  had  come 
to  ask  a  great  favor,  and  now  I  am  afraid." 

"  And  what  favor  may  that  be  ?  "  she  asked  me, 
rather  suspiciously,  but  yet  relenting  a  little,  as  I 
thought. 

"  Even  that  you  will  teach  me  to  knit,"  1  an- 
swered. "  My  mistress  says  that  you  know  how  to 
knit  hosen  like  those  which  come  from  Spain,  and 
that  you  taught  her  mother." 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  did,"  she  answered  ;  "  and  a  sweet 
creature  she  was.  How  well  I  remember  when  my 
Lord  Willowby  came  a  suitor  for  her  hand ; "  and 
therewith  she  went  off  in  a  long  description  of  the 
wedding,  and  bedding,  and  so  forth,  which  kept  her 
amused  till  it  was  time  for  me  to  go.  "  But  you 
will  teach  me  to  knit  ?  "  said  I,  as  I  rose  to  leave  her. 

"  That  I  will,  that  1  will,  dear  maiden.  I  will  hunt 
up  my  knitting-pins  to-day,  and  will  show  you  the 


210  Loveday's  History. 

motion,  and  how  to  put  up  the  stitches.  Just  wheel 
my  chair  near  to  yonder  cabinet,  if  you  will,  and  I 
will  see  what  I  can  find  ; "  and  so  I  left  her  happy  in 
rummaging  her  drawers. 

The  next  morning  she  had  found  her  pins,  and 
gave  me  a  lesson  in  knitting,  over  which  we  became 
quite  good  friends  again.  By  degrees  she  opened 
her  mind  to  me,  and  I  found  out  what  was  the  trou- 
ble which  embittered  her  life.  It  seems  that  Queen 
Katherine,  in  her  will,  had  provided  that  some  one 
should  make  a  pilgrimage  to  our  Lady  of  Walsing- 
ham,  for  the  benefit  of  her  soul.  This  had  never 
been  done,  and  the  poor,  faithful  old  servant  was 
eating  her  heart  with  grief  lest  her  mistress  was  still 
suffering  in  Purgatory  on  account  of  this  omission. 

"  I  would  gladly  have  gone  myself,"  said  she,  "  but 
I  had  a  broken  leg ;  and  now  there  is  no  more  any 
holy  shrine  at  Walsingham.  Oh,  me !  oh,  me ! 
That  my  poor  mistress,  who  would  have  gone  on  foot 
to  Rome  to  save  the  soul  of  a  poor  beggar,  should 
suffer  for  want  of  such  a  charity  as  that." 

She  wept,  and  I  could  not  forbear  weeping  with 
her,  and  trying  to  comfort  her. 

"  Dear  Mistress  Patience,"  said  I ;  "  Queen  Kather- 
ine was  a  Christian  woman  and  trusted  in  her  Saviour, 
who  is  all  pity  and  compassion.  Think  you  He  loves 
her  less  than  you  do  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  wonderingly,  "  I  suppose  not." 

"  Would  he  not  love  her  just  as  much  more  than 
you,  as  he  is  greater  than  you — that  is,  infinitely  ?" 

"Yes,  belike  He  does.    Vhat  then?" 

"  Then — do  not  be  angry,  dear  lady — but  would 
He  leave  her  in  such  a  dreadful  place,  because  some 


Her  Grace.  211 

one  did  not  do  what  was  impossible.  The  Scripture 
saith  that  his  blood  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.  What 
need  then  of  any  further  cleansing  ?  " 

She  looked  doubtfully  on  me,  and  I  had  to  leave 
her  at  that  time  ;  but  the  next  morning,  as  I  took 
my  knitting,  she  said,  abruptly  : 

"Mistress  Loveday,  is  what  you  said  yesterday— 
about  cleansing  from  sin — is  that  in  the  Bible  ? — I 
mean  the  true  Latin  Bible,  not  that  which  the  here- 
tics have  put  forth." 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  I  answered. 

She  sighed.  "  I  wish  I  could  read  it,"  said  she  ; 
"  but  I  was  never  good  at  Latin,  and  now  my  eyes 
are  failed,  so  I  can  scarce  read  English." 

"I  will  read  it  for  you,  dear  madam,"  said  I.  "I 
have  a  Latin  Bible,  and  I  will  read  it  into  English 
for  you,  if  you  will." 

"  Do  so,"  she  answered.  I  fetched  my  book,  and 
read  to  her  such  places  as  bore  on  the  subject,  as 
long  as  I  had  time.  When  I  was  obliged  to  go  away, 
she  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm,  and  fixing  her  eyes  on 
mine,  she  said,  with  touching  earnestness  : 

"  You  are  a  good  maid  and  a  fine  scholar.  You 
would  not  deceive  me  ?  " 

"  Not  for  the  whole  world,"  I  told  her. 

"  Then  tell  me — are  all  these  things  in  the  English 
Bible?" 

"  They  are  indeed,  dear  madam,  and  much  more." 

"  I  would  I  had  one,  that  I  could  see  for  myself," 
said  she. 

"  Mine  is  fine  print — I  fear  you  could  not  read  it," 
said  I  ;  and  then,  as  a  thought  struck  me :  "  My 
lady  hath  given  me  leave  to  visit  my  friends  to-day, 


212  Loveday^s  History. 

and  I  think  I  may  be  able  to  bring  you  the  New  Tes- 
tament in  fair,  large  print." 

Her  face  brightened,  and  then  fell  again.  "But 
that  may  bring  you  into  trouble,"  said  she. 

"I  think  not,"  I  answered.  "At  all  events,  I  will 
see  what  can  be  done."  She  consented  at  last,  giving 
me  a  gold  piece  to  pay  for  the  book,  and  to  buy  a 
fairing  for  myself.  As  I  said,  my  mistress  had  given 
me  leave  to  go  spend  the  day  with  my  friends,  and 
Mistress  Curtis  sent  one  of  the  men  to  attend  me  to 
Master  Hall's,  where  1  purposed  to  go  first.  I  had 
been  used  to  run  back  and  forth  between  his  house 
and  Master  Davis's,  but  I  was  now  a  lady  in  a  great 
house,  so  I  must  needs  have  a  blue-coated  serving- 
man  at  my  heels. 

I  found  them  all  well  and  overjoyed  to  see  me,  but 
methought  Master  Hall  was  more  sober  than  his  wont, 
and  Margaret's  fair  brow  had  a  shade  of  care.  When 
we  were  alone  together,  I  asked  her  if  any  ill  fortune 
had  befallen. 

"  Nothing  as  yet,"  she  answered,  "  but,  Loveday, 
we  are  living,  as  it  were,  on  the  edge  of  a  quicksand 
which  may  any  day  open  and  engulf  us.  It  hath  some- 
how become  known  that  my  husband  has  been  en- 
gaged in  the  printing  and  selling  of  English  Bibles, 
or  at  least  so  we  think.  We  are  beset  with  spies. 
One  of  our  best  workmen,  James  Wells,  hath  disap- 
peared, and  we  can  get  no  news  of  him." 

"He  may  have  been  murdered  in  some  street 
brawl,"  said  I ;  "  you  know  there  have  been  many  of 
late." 

"True;  and  he  may  have  turned  informer,  perhaps, 
by  force  of  the  rack — who  knows  ?  I  am  glad  you 


Her  Grace.  213 

came  to-day,  for  nobody  knows  when  we  shall  meet 
again."  She  looked  about  her,  went  to  the  door  to 
sec  that  it  was  fast,  and  then  whispered  in  mine  ear  : 
"  In  a  week  or  two,  perhaps  in  a  few  days,  my  hus- 
band will  go  to  the  Low  Countries,  and  I  shall  follow 
him  as  soon  as  I  can  settle  up  our  matters  here." 

This  was  news,  indeed,  and  the  worst  I  had  heard 
for  many  a  day.  I  could  not  forbear  weeping  over 
it,  and  Margaret  joined  her  tears  to  mine. 

"  But  we  must  not  spend  our  last  meeting  in  tears," 
said  she,  presently,  drying  her  eyes.  "  Tell  me,  dear 
maid,  how  it  fares  with  you  and  what  you  are  doing  ?  " 
With  that,  we  fell  into  our  old  strain  of  talk,  and  it 
was  a  wonder  to  me  to  see  how  she  seemed  to  forget 
her  own  concerns  in  mine,  when  I  told  her  of  Mrs. 
Patience. 

"Alas,  poor  soul.  She  shall  have  what  she  wants, 
but  not  for  hire  or  reward."  And  going  to  one  of 
the  secret  recesses,  of  which  the  house  was  full,  she 
brought  forth  a  fairly  printed  New  Testament  and  a 
Psalter. 

"Give  these  to  the  poor  lady  and  bid  her  bestow 
the  price  in  charity,"  said  she.  "  My  husband  will  be 
only  too  glad  to  give  the  bread  of  life  to  one  more 
perishing  soul.  But  conceal  them  carefully.  I 
would  not  have  you  brought  into  jeopardy.  Your 
cousin,  Sir  Walter,  tells  me  you  are  in  great  favor  with 
your  good  lady." 

"  She  is,  indeed,  good — far  beyond  my  deserts,"  I 
answered:  "  I  never  saw  a  sweeter  young  creature. 
She  hath  but  one  fault,  and  I  sometimes  fear  that 
may  bring  her  into  trouble.  She  cannot  refrain  her 
tongue  from  any  gibe  or  jest  that  comes  to  her. 


214  Loveday's  History. 

Bishop  Gardiner  comes  often  to  our  house,  and  never, 
I  think,  without  their  having  an  encounter  of  wits,  in 
which  he  is  sure  to  come  by  the  worst.  I  like  not  the 
way  he  looks  at  her,  and  believe,  though  he  says  not 
a  word  but  of  the  most  honeyed  courtesy,  he  doth 
cherish  in  his  heart  both  anger  and  revenge." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Margaret.  "  He  is  a  wicked  and 
cruel  man — one  of  the  true  Pharisees  which  Scripture 
says  do  shut  up  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  not  entering 
himself  nor  suffering  others  to  do  so.  He  is  a  dan- 
gerous enemy." 

"  I  know  I  would  not  like  him  for  mine,  but  I  am 
too  insignificant  to  draw  his  notice." 

I  dined  with  Margaret,  and  then  we  went  together 
to  her  father's  house,  she  giving  me  a  caution  not  to 
speak  of  what  she  had  told  me  about  her  husband's 
affairs,  specially  before  Philippa. 

"  She  would  surely  never  betray  you,"  said  I,  start- 
led. Margaret  shook  her  head. 

"  She  might  no£  be  able  to  help  herself.  I  trust 
nobody  who  goes  to  confession." 

We  found  all  well,  and  the  children  came  near  eat- 
ing me  up  in  the  warmth  of  their  welcome.  I  had 
brought  my  knitting,  and  Mistress  Davis  was  at  once 
on  fire  to  learn  the  art,  so  I  taught  her  as  far  as  it  could 
be  learned  in  one  lesson.  I  had  made  a  little  pair 
of  red  hosen  for  my  pupil  Helen,  and  great  was  the 
wonderment  over  them,  for  knitted  hose  wrere  even 
more  rare  then  than  now.  The  only  ones  ever  seen 
were  brought  out  of  Spain  and  sold  for  great  prices. 

Philippa  was  in  a  generous  mood,  and  full  of  curi- 
osity about  my  new  way  of  living.  I  was  willing  to 
gratify  her  as  far  as  was  discreet,  but  she  wanted  to 


Her  Grace.  215 

hear  more,  and  began  asking  me  questions  about  the 
family. 

"  They  say  the  Duke  and  Duchess  do  not  well  agree, 
and  that  he  reproaches  her  with  her  wastefulness  and 
love  of  dress,  even  before  visitors,"  said  she. 

"  Nonsense,"  I  answered.  "  The  Duke  is  the  very 
mirror  and  pink  of  courtesy  to  all,  and  especially  to 
his  wife." 

"  But  is  she  extravagant  ?  "  persisted  Philippa.  I 
hardly  knew  how  to  answer,  for,  in  truth,  I  had 
thought  my  mistress  more  expenseful  in  her  habits 
than  was  discreet  at  all  times,  even  with  such  a 
princely  income  as  the  Duke's.  Philippa  went  on, 
without  waiting  for  a  reply. 

"I  have  heard  that  her  grace  never  wears  the 
same  gown  twice,  and  that  she  hath  as  many  sets 
of  jewels  as  there  are  days  in  the  year.  Is  that 
true,  think  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  never  counted  my  mistress's  jew- 
els," I  answered  rather  shortly,  for  I  was  vexed  and 
embarrassed.  "  Take  care,  dear  aunt,  you  have 
dropped  a  stitch.  Let  me  take  it  up  for  you." 

"  But  you  must  have  the  chance  to  see  all  her  fine 
things,"  continued  Philippa.  "  Do  you  not  take 
care  of  her  jewels  ?  " 

"No;  she  always  puts  them  away  herself." 

"Is  the  Lady  Frances  at  home?"  was  the  next 
question. 

"No;  she  returns  next  week." 

"  Folk  say  she  hath  the  king's  temper,"  observed 
Philippa.  "  They  say  that  she  and  her  stepmother 
do  not  agree,  and  that  when  the  Duchess  cuffed  her 
for  her  impertinence,  she  struck  back  and  gave 


216  Loveday's  History. 

her    mother    a    black   eye.       Was    that    so,    think 
you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  know  nothing  about  my 
Lady  Frances's  relations  with  her  mother,  and  if  I  did, 
I  would  not  tell  it  out  of  the  family." 

"  Why,  what  harm  would  it  do  ? "  asked  Philippa. 

"  It  would  be  treason  to  those  whose  bread  she  eats, 
and  under  whose  protection  she  lives,"  said  Mistress 
Davis,  with  emphasis.  "  And  Loveday  is  right  to 
refuse.  There  can  be  no  greater  or  baser  act  of 
treachery,  than  for  a  servant  in  any  station  to  tattle 
of  the  private  concerns  of  her  employers." 

Philippa  pouted.  "  She  told  the  children  how  the 
little  lord  rode  his  pony  in  the  tilt-yard." 

"  That  was  but  child's  play,"  said  I,  "  very  different 
from  what  you  have  asked.  How  would  you  like  to 
have  some  one  tell  of  all  that  happened  in  your  fam- 
ily, supposing  you  had  one  ?  " 

"  Any  how,  a  great  many  people  do  it,  and  think  no 
harm." 

"  They  do  harm,  whether  they  think  it  or  not,"  an- 
swered Mistress  Davis.  "  Many  a  scandal  and  shame 
grows  out  of  such  tittle-tattle." 

Philippa  was  silent  for  awhile,  but  her  curiosity 
was  too  lively  to  allow  her  to  sulk,  as  usual,  and  she 
presently  began  to  ask  me  about  the  last  court  fash- 
ions, in  gowns  and  headgear.  I  was  willing  to  do  her 
a  pleasure,  though  surprised  at  her  interest  in  such  a 
matter,  for  she  had  always  affected  a  great  indifference 
to  dress.  I  had  observed,  indeed,  a  change  in  her 
own  attire.  She  no  longer  wore  her  everlasting 
black  gown,  but  was  becomingly  dressed  in  blue 
damask  j  and  her  veil  and  close  coif  were  exchanged 


Her  Grace. 

for  a  becoming  hood. .  When  she  left  the  room,  I 
noticed  the  change  to  Mistress  Davis,  who  smiled, 
somewhat  mischievously. 

"  Yes,  she  came  to  me  not  long  since,  and,  saying 
she  thought  it  her  duty  to  submit  to  my  wishes  more 
than  she  had  done,  she  asked  my  counsel  about  her 
attire.  I  have  my  own  ideas  about  what  the  change 
portends,  but  I  shall  say  nothing." 

Master  Davis  now  coming  in,  the  subject  was 
dropped,  and  did  not  come  up  again. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AT   THE    GREAT   HOUSE. 

HEN  I  returned  to  Suffolk  House,  which  I 
took  care  to  do  in  good  season,  I  bestowed 
my  book  of  the  New  Testament  in  my  room, 
and  the  next  morning  I  carried  it  to  Mistress  Patience, 
who  received  it  with  real  pleasure.  I  read  to  her  a 
little  in  the  beginning  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel,  and 
left  her  turning  over  the  leaves  and  spelling  out  a 
verse  here  and  there.  She  would  by  no  means  take 
back  the  price  of  the  book,  but  bade  me  bestow  it  in 
charity,  if  I  would  not  spend  it  for  mine  own  pleas- 
ure. 

It  was  still  early,  when  I  went  down  stairs.  I  car- 
ried with  me  two  books,  one  of  songs,  the  other  of 
lesson's  for  the  organ,  which  Master  Hall  had  given 
me.  I  was  playing  one  of  these  lessons  with  great 
pains,  and  stopping  now  and  then,  for  it  was  some- 
what difficult,  when  I  heard  the  door  open.  Suppos- 
ing it  might  be  Mistress  Mandeville,  I  did  not  speak 
till  I  had  finished  my  lesson  ;  when  I  said,  without 
looking  round:  "  There,  Mistress  Mandeville,  how  do 
you  like  that?"  (We  were  always  good  friends, 
though  never  were  two  women  who  had  less  in  com- 
mon.) 


At  the   Great  House.  219 

"  It  is  not  Mistress  Mandeville,  but  I  like  it  very 
much,  indeed  !  "  said  a  pleasant  voice  ;  and,  turning 
quickly,  I  beheld  a  young  lady  whom  I  had  never  seen 
before.  She  was,  at  that  time,  about  fourteen,  very 
pretty,  even  at  that  unformed  age,  with  the  yellow 
gold  hair  of  her  Tudor  race,  a  fair  complexion  and 
merry  eyes,  which  had  yet  a  spark  in  them  promis- 
ing a  choleric  disposition,  if  it  were  not  checked  in 
time.  I  guessed  at  once  she  was  Lady  Frances  Bran- 
don, the  Duke's  youngest  daughter,  and  was  in  some 
confusion. 

"  Nay,  do  not  rise,  but  play  me  something  else," 
said  she.  "  I  suppose  you  are  my  mother's  new  gen- 
tlewoman, of  whom  I  have  heard  ?  " 

"Yes,  madam." 

"  And  I  am  Lady  Frances,  and  I  love  music  above 
all  things,"  said  she.  "I  never  heard  any  woman 
touch  the  organ  as  you  do.  I  like  it  far  better  than 
spinet  or  clavichord,  or  any  of  their  race,  don't 
you  ?  " 

I  told  her  yes,  for  sacred  and  solemn  music,  but  for 
that  which  was  lighter  in  character,  I  preferred  the 
clavichord.  She  bade  me  play  something  else,  and  I 
obeyed,  not  knowing  wl;at  else  to  do.  She  stood  by 
in  silence,  drinking  in  the  sounds  with  that  fixed  at- 
tention which  is  so  flattering  to  the  performer,  and 
shows  the  real  lover  of  music.  Then  I  ventured  to 
ask  her  if  she  did  not  play  herself  ? 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  little,  but  not  like  you.  I  shall  ask  my 
mother  to  let  you  give  me  lessons." 

Then,  at  my  asking,  she  sat  down  to  the  virginal 
and  played  a  simple  lesson,  not  very  accurately,  but 
with  true  feeling. 


220  Lovedatfs  History. 

"  There,  what  say  you  ?  "  when  she  had  finished. 
"  Shall  I  ever  make  a  player  ?  " 

"I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not,"  I  answered. 
"  You  have  but  to  cultivate  correctness  in  tone  and 
touch  to  make  a  very  good  player,  but  these  last  are 
essential." 

She  colored  a  little,  and  then  said,  with  a  half 
laugh  : 

"  You  are  no  courtier,  Mistress — Corbet — you  should 
have  praised  my  playing  to  the  skies,  and  sworn  that 
you  were  listening  to  the  music  of  the  spheres.  That 
is  what  I  am  used  to." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  the  trouble  with  your  playing," 
I  could  not  forbear  saying ;  whereat  she  laughed 
again. 

"Worse  and  worse.  Why  you  are  downright 
Dunstable  with  a  witness  ;  but  I  like  you  all  the  bet- 
ter," she  added.  "  1  think  you  and  I  shall  be  good 
friends.  Say,  Mistress  Corbet,  will  you  give  me  les- 
sons on  the  organ  ?" 

"Surely,  Lady  Frances,  if  your  mother  is  willing," 
said  I.  "  It  must  be  as  she  says,  you  know." 

"  Of  course.  Do  you  know,  Mistress  Corbet,  a 
lady  tried  to  make  me  think  I  owed  no  obedience  to 
my  step-dame,  because  the  king  is  mine  uncle — what 
do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  the  most  imprudent  young  lady 
that  ever  talked  to  a  stranger,"  was  my  thought, 
but  I  said — 

"  I  am  not  the  proper  person  to  advise  you,  my 
Lady  Frances,  but  if  you  will  know  what  mine  opinion 
is,  I  think  that  the  precept — '  Children  obey  your 
parents  in  the  Lord,'  comes  from  one  greater  than  all 


At  the  Great  House.  221 

the  kings  and  princes  of  the  earth.  I  think  also  that 
any  young  maid,  gentle  or  simple,  might  be  thankful 
to  have  such  a  step-dame  as  my  mistress." 

"And  so  do  I,"  she  answered  warmly.  "And  I 
won't  be  set  against  her  by  any  of  them." 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  opened  by  a  severe- 
looking  lady  whom  I  had  never  seen  before.  Starch 
was  not  used  in  those  days,  or  I  might  think  she  had 
been  fed  on  nothing  else  since  she  was  born,  so  stiffly 
did  she  carry  herself. 

"My  Lady  Frances  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
said  she,  in  that  kind  of  tone  which  excites  rebellion 
in  the  heart  of  the  best  child  that  ever  lived.  "  Me- 
thinks  you  forget  what  is  due  to  your  rank  in  talking 
thus  familiarly  with  this — you  are  her  Grace's  cham- 
ber-woman if  I  mistake  not ! "  she  added,  turning  to 
me  in  a  way  that  made  her  words  a  downright  insult. 

I  simply  courtesied. 

"  How  do  you  know  whether  I  was  talking 
familiarly  or  not  ?  "  demanded  Lady  Frances,  saucily 
enough.  "  Were  you  at  your  old  trick  of  eaves- 
dropping ?  " 

The  gouvernante,  for  such  she  was,  colored  through 
all  her  rouge  and  powder,  but  she  deigned  no  reply, 
save  to  bid  Lady  Frances  follow  her.  But  I  think  she 
kept  her  not  long,  for  when  I  went  to  my  mistress,  I 
found  Lady  Frances  kneeling  by  her  side,  playing 
with  the  tassels  of  her  girdle  and  coaxingly  preferring 
some  request. 

"  So,  Mistress  Corbet,  what  mischief  have  you  and 
this  child  been  hatching  up  between  you?"  asked  her 
Grace.  "  Here  she  is  begging  and  beseeching  that 
you  may  give  her  lessons,  she  having,  as  she  says,  fallen 


222  Loveday's  History. 

in  love  with  your  playing.  What  say  you?  Will 
you  take  such  a  troublesome  office  upon  yourself  as 
the  instruction  of  a  perverse  child  ?  "  she  added,  pull- 
ing her  step -daughter's  ear. 

I  told  her  I  would  willingly  give  Lady  Frances  all 
the  help  in  my  power  if  her  Grace  could  spare  me 
the  time. 

"Well,  well,  my  Frances,  we  will  talk  to  your 
father,  and  see  what  he  has  to  say.  But  mind,  Love- 
day,  I  am  to  have  you  to  read  aloud  to  me,  and  attend 
me  on  the  water  all  the  same.  'Tis  sheer  cruelty  to 
take  poor  Mandeville  into  a  boat." 

I  could  not  but  think  my  time  was  likely  to  be 
fully  occupied,  but  I  never  was  afraid  of  work.  By 
degrees,  I  drifted  more  and  more  into  the  position  of 
governess  to  my  Lady  Frances.  My  Lady  Challoner, 
who  had  never  got  on  well  with  her  charge — I  never 
saw  the  human  being  that  liked  her — went  away,  and 
another  elderly  lady,  Mrs.  Wardour,  the  widow  of  a 
brave  soldier,  took  her  place.  She  was  a  very  dis- 
creet lady,  who  knew  well  how  to  control  herself,  and 
who  soon  won  the  respect  of  her  charge.  Lady 
Frances  was  docile  enough  with  her,  and  soon  learned 
to  be  ashamed  of  the  tempest  of  passionate  anger 
which  I  used  to  think  Lady  Challoner  took  delight  in 
provoking,  that  she  might  have  whereof  to  complain 
to  the  girl's  father.  My  Lady  Frances  was  different 
from  many  high-tempered  persons  in  this,  that  she  did 
not  alwavs  think  some  one  else  was  to  blame  for  her 
outbreaks,  but  laid  the  fault  where  it  belonged,  on 
her  own  choleric  temper.  She  and  J  got  on  very 
well,  and  she  improved  so  fast  that  it  was  a  pleasure 
to  teach  her. 


At  the  Great  House.  223 

I  still  read  to  her  Grace  whenever  she  was  at  home 
of  an  evening,  and  attended  her  in  her  excursions 
upon  the  river,  but  I  was  excused  from  standing  be- 
hind her  chair,  and  another  gentlewoman  took  my 
place.  It  was  on  our  return  from  one  of  these  water 
excursions  that  an  event  took  place  of  which  we 
thought  little  at  the  time,  but  which  was  destined  to 
have  important  consequences  for  us  both.  We  had 
landed  at  our  usual  place,  when  we  saw  a  couple  of 
burly,  rude  watermen  threatening  and  bullying  a  pale 
man  in  black,  who  looked  like  a  scholar  of  some  sort. 
Even  as  we  came  up,  one  of  them  struck  him  a  blow 
which  staggered  and  nearly  knocked  him  down. 

"  Shame,  shame  !  "  rang  out  the  clear  voice  of  the 
Duchess,  who  was  not  one  of  those  over-prudent  people 
who  can  never  do  a  generous  action  without  thinking 
about  it  till  the  occasion  is  past.  "  Is  that  the  way 
for  Englishmen  to  treat  a  stranger  and  a  poor  man  ? 
Let  him  alone,  you  brute  !  "  For  the  bully,  furious 
with  anger,  had  again  raised  his  hand.  His  com- 
panion, somewhat  cooler,  and  seeing  the  Duke's  water- 
men, caught  his  arm  and  began  to  explain — 

"  He  is  no  true  man,  my  lady,  but  a  beggarly 
Frenchman  and  a  spy  ! " 

"No,  no  spy!"  muttered  the  man,  in  imperfect 
English.  He  reeled  as  he  spoke,  and  would  have 
fallen  into  the  water,  had  not  one  of  our  own  serving- 
men  caught  him.  The  two  rogues,  seeing  with  whom 
they  had  to  deal,  began  to  comprehend  that  the  matter 
might  end  badly  for  them,  and  slunk  away  in  a  hurry. 

"  Poor  man,  is  he  hurt  ?  "  asked  the  Duchess,  com- 
passionately. "  Speak  to  him,  Mistress  Corbet  ;  I  dare 
say  he  knows  Latin." 


224  Loveday's  History. 

I  did  so,  but  his  voice  was  so  faint  that  I  could 
not  catch  his  answer. 

"  I  believe  the  man  is  starved,  my  lady,"  said  John 
Symonds,  who  was  supporting  him.  "  He  is  naught 
but  a  bag  of  bones.  Some  beef  and  strong  water 
would  be  the  best  remedy  for  his  ail." 

"  With  your  Grace's  leave,  I  will  take  this  poor 
man  in  charge,"  said  a  well-known  voice,  and  Master 
Hall  lifted  his  cap  to  the  Duchess.  "  He  hath  but 
fainted,  as  I  think.  Loveday,  have  you  your  scent- 
ing-bottle  about  you  ?  " 

The  Duchess  looked  surprised  enough  to  hear  this 
strange  merchant  call  me  by  name.  I  handed  him  the 
bottle  of  strong  perfume,  which  ladies  then  as  now 
carried  in  their  pockets,  but  the  poor  sufferer  had 
already  opened  his  eyes. 

"Food— food  !  "  said  he  ;  "I  starve." 

By  this  time  a  crowd  was  gathered. 

"  Please  your  Grace  to  move  on,"  said  Master  Hall, 
courteously.  "I  will  care  for  the  poor  man,  and 
bring  you  an  account  of  him,  if  you  will." 

"  Do  so,  sir  ;  and  we  shall  be  your  debtor,"  said 
the  Duchess,  with  the  queenly  grace  which  was  natural 
to  her.  "  See  that  he  is  comfortably  bestowed  and 
wants  for  nothing.  We  take  the  expense  on  ourself." 

She  put  two  or  three  gold  pieces  into  Master  Hall's 
hand,  and  we  moved  on.  When  we  were  in  the  house 
she  sent  for  me,  and  asked  me,  with  some  little  sharp- 
ness, who  was  that  man  who  called  me  so  familiarly 
by  my  name.  I  told  her  he  was  the  son-in-law  of 
my  good  friend,  Master  Davis,  and  the  husband  of  my 
dearest  friend. 

"Ay,"    said  she,  "I    heard  you   call  him  Master 


At  the   Great  Home.  225 

Hall,  but  is  he  the  man  who  is  noted  for  selling  sedi- 
tious and  heretical  books  ?  " 

•"  I  dare  to  say,  madam,  that  he  never  sold  a  seditious 
book  in  his  life  !  "  I  answered.  "  As  to  heresy,  'tis 
not  so  easy  to  tell  in  these  days  what  is  heresy  and 
what  is  not." 

"  And  that  is  true  !  "  said  she,  relapsing  into  her 
usual  tone  of  kindness.  "  But,  Loveday,  your  friend 
is  in  danger.  I  heard  his  name  mentioned  last  night 
as  a  principal  dealer  in  forbidden  books,  and  if  Gar- 
diner gets  his  claws  upon  him,  you  know  what  his 
case  will  be." 

"  I  know,  madam  !  "  I  answered,  "  but  I  trust  he 
may  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  that  bad 
man." 

"  And  so  do  I,  but  a  word  to  the  wise  is  enough. 
Mayhap  your  cousin,  being  a  scholar,  will  have  occa- 
sion to  go  to  this  Master  Hall's  shop  to  buy  something. 
And,  now  I  think  of  it,  Frances  tells  me  she  wants 
a  new  book  of  lessons.  Doth  he  deal  in  music  ?  " 

I  told  her  it  was  a  great  part  of  his  trade,  and  she 
bade  me  tell  my  cousin,  in  case  he  went  out,  to  go 
thither  and  buy  what  was  needed,  and  also  some  paper 
and  pens  for  herself.  With  that  she  dismissed  me, 
and  I  went  at  once  to  find  out  Walter,  and  told  him 
what  I  had  heard.  Walter  looked  very  grave. 

"  Her  Grace  is  right,"  said  he.  "  There  is  no  time 
to  lose.  I  will  go  at  once." 

It  may  be  guessed  that  I  spent  an  anxious  day.  My 
fancy  pictured  Margaret  in  all  sorts  of  dreadful  pre- 
dicaments, and  imagined  the  distress  of  Master  Davis 
and  his  family.  What  a  relief  it  was,  and  yet  what 
a  start  it  gave  me  that  evening,  as  I  was  reading  to 


226  Loveday's  History. 

the  Duchess  and  Lady  Frances,  to  hear  the  gentleman 
usher  say  : 

"  A  merchant  of  the  city,  Master  Hall,  hath  brought 
some  books  and  music,  and  desires  an  audience  of 
your  Grace  upon  business." 

"  Have  him  in,  have  him  in  ! "  said  the  Duchess. 
' '  Good  even  to  you,  good  Master  Hall  !  "  as  he  en- 
tered. "  What  news  of  our  poor  client,  whom  you  so 
kindly  took  in  charge  ?  " 

"  He  is  like  to  do  well,  your  Grace,"  answered  Mas- 
ter Hall.  "  All  he  needed  was  food.  He  told  me  he 
had  not  eaten  in  three  days." 

"Alas  !  poor  man.  Did  he  tell  you  what  brought 
him  to  such  straits  ?  " 

"Aj,  madam.  He  is  a  poor  Walloon  minister, 
who  had  come  to  this  country  to  seek  a  brother,  whom 
he  heard  was  very  ill  in  London.  His  brother  died, 
and  he  himself  met  with  an  accident  which  disabled 
him  for  a  time.  He  spent  all  his  money,  and  for  the 
past  few  days  hath  been  absolutely  starving.  He 
says  he  would  have  died,  but  for  the  charity  of  a  poor 
woman  who  keeps  a  very  small  eating-house  near  the 
water  side.  But  now  the  good  dame  herself  is  turned 
out  of  house  and  home  by  a  grasping  landlord,  who 
hopes  to  make  a  few  more  pence  of  rent,  and  is  her- 
self an  object  of  charity." 

"  I  hope,  with  all  my  heart,  the  next  tenant  will 
cheat  him  of  his  rent  altogether,"  said  the  Duchess,  with 
her  usual  outspoken  freedom.  "  Who  are  these  Wal- 
loons, Master  Hall,  and  where  do  they  live  ?  " 

"  They  are  a  people  of  French  origin,  an'  it  please 
your  Grace,  and  live  mostly  about  Leinburg,  Liege, 
Namur,  and  the  parts  thereto  adjacent.  They  are  an 


At  the   Great  House.  227 

industrious,  thriving  race,  and  much  given  to  learning 
as  well  as  trade.  I  have  often  sojourned  among  them 
when  I  have  been  abroad,  and  have  ever  found  them 
kind  and  hospitable  to  strangers." 

"So  much  the  more  need  that  strangers  should  be 
hospitable  to  them,"  remarked  the  Duchess.  "  And  of 
what  religion  are  they  ?  " 

"  They  are  Protestants,  madam,  holding  by  the 
Augsburg  Confession.*  This  gentleman  is  one  of 
their  clergy." 

"  So  !  And  what  would  you  advise  to  be  done  for 
this  poor  man  and  his  old  landlady  ?  Speak  freely," 
added  the  Duchess,  "  we  need  fear  no  spies  here." 

"  Since  your  Grace  will  have  me  be  so  bold,  I  would 
recommend  that  the  poor  woman  be  established  once 
more  in  a  house  where  she  can  carry  on  her  business. 
A  small  payment  in  advance  would  enable  her  to  rent 
a  much  better  stand  than  before,  and  then  Monsieur 
Claude  could  lodge  with  her  till  he  is  sufficiently 
recovered  to  return  home." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  good  scheme ! "  said  the 
Duchess,  thoughtfully  :  "And  how  much  would  be 
required  for  all  ?  I  mean  to  pay  this  poor  woman's 
first  quarter  and  Monsieur  Claude's  traveling  ex- 
penses ! " 

Master  Hall  named  the  sums  and  the  Duchess  bade 
me  take  the  money  from  her  cabinet,  and  herself  put 
it  into  his  hand,  with  that  sweet,  graceful  manner 
which  made  every  such  act  on  her  part  a  personal 
favor." 

*  After  Flanders  fell  under  the  power  of  Philip  Second,  a 
large  number  of  Walloons  emigrated  to  Holland  and  after- 
ward to  the  New  Netherlands.  They  are,  in  fact,  the  ancestors 
of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church. 


228  Lovedatfs  History. 

"And  now,  let  us  see  what  books  you  have 
brought,"  said  she.  "  Nothing  seditious,  I  trust,  since 
Mistress  Corbet  hath  given  her  personal  security  that 
you  do  not  deal  in  such  matters,  and  it  were  a  pity  to 
shame  her." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  her  being  shamed  by  me  !  " 
said  Master  Hall ;  "  at  least  so  far  as  that  goes — but 
knowing  your  Grace  to  be  fond  of  prints  and  the 
like,  I  have  ventured  to  bring  two  or  three,  and 
also  some  music  books,  if  your  Grace  will  accept  so 
small  an  offering." 

"  In  truth,  Master  Hall,  we  shall  be  your  debtors  !  " 
answered  the  Duchess  :  "  My  daughter  was  even 
now  petitioning  for  new  music.  Frances,  let  me  hear 
you  make  your  acknowledgments  to  Master  Hall  for 
the  pleasure  he  hath  given  us." 

Lady  Frances  did  so  in  her  usual  pretty,  frank  fash- 
ion. Master  Hall  answered  a  question  or  two  about 
the  prints,  and  was  just  upon  taking  his  leave,  when 
the  Duke  entered.  There  was  an  unusual  cloud  on 
his  brow,  and  he  looked  both  grave  and  angry. 

"  What  gear  is  here  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Ha,  my  good 
friend,  Master  Hall,  this  is  a  fortunate  chance.  I 
have  business  with  you,  and  was  about  to  send  lor 
you.  Leave  the  ladies  with  their  books,  and  come 
you  to  my  cabinet.  This  is  a  matter  that  brooks  no 
delay?" 

I  saw  Master  Hall  change  color  for  a  moment,  and 
then  he  was  himself  again.  As  he  bade  me  good- 
night, he  whispered  in  my  ear  : 

"Loveday,  if  I  am  not  seen  again,  take  my  love 
and  blessing  to  Margaret." 

It  may  be  believed  I  had  no  stomach  for  music  that 


At  the  Great  House.  229 

night,  and  the  Duchess  seeing  or  guessing  that  some- 
thing was  the  matter,  dismissed  me  at  an  early  hour. 
The  next  morning  she  sent  for  me  to  come  to  her  at 
least  an  hour  earlier  than  usual.  When  I  entered  her 
dressing  room,  I  found  the  Duke  there  before  me. 

"  Mistress  Corbet,"  said  he,  after  he  had  himself 
closed  the  door,  and  made  sure  there  were  no  eaves- 
droppers, "  my  wife  tells  me  that  you  are  a  model 
of  discretion,  and  can  keep  secrets." 

"  Her  Grace  praises  me  too  highly,"  said  I,  wonder- 
ing what  could  be  coming  next :  "  I  may  venture  to 
say  that  I  am  no  tale-pyet  at  the  least." 

"  I  trust  not,  for  in  truth  I  have  to  put  into  your 
hands  a  somewhat  weighty  matter.  A  warrant  will 
be  issued  this  morning  to  take  your  friends,  Master 
Hall  and  his  wife,  for  heresy,  and  for  publishing  and 
selling  heretical  books." 

The  world  seemed  to  turn  round  with  me,  but  I  did 
not  altogether  lose  my  wits. 

"  I  must  warn  them  !  "  were  the  words  which  seemed 
to  come  of  themselves  from  my  lip. 

"  There  is  no  need  !  "  said  his  Grace,  "  they  have 
already  escaped,  and  I  have  good  hope  that  they  are 
by  this  time  beyond  reach  of  pursuit." 

"  May  God  bless  your  Grace  !  "  said  I. 

"  Nay,  you  are  not  to  think  that  I  had  any  thing  to 
do  with  the  matter,  and  it  is  of  this  I  would  warn 
you  !  "  said  he.  "  But  now  of  warnings  that  concern 
your  own  safety.  Had  you  any  books  or  other  things 
with  your  name  on  at  Mistress  Hall's  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Grace  ?  " 

"  That  is  well ;  but  have  you  had  any  communings 
with  her,  so  as  to  know  the  secrets  of  the  business  ? 


230  Loveday^s  History. 

Speak  freely,  maiden.  Trust  me,  I  have  no  wish  but 
to  stand  your  friend." 

Thus  reassured,  I  told  his  Grace  that  I  had  never 
had  aught  to  do  with  Master  Hall's  business,  save 
that  I  had  helped  to  correct  the  proofs  of  Erasmus 
his  Paraphrase  and  Colloquies." 

"  There  was  no  harm  in  that.  But  have  you 
bought  no  books  of  them  which  might  bring  you  into 
trouble  if  known  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  bought  any,  your  Grace,"  I  answered. 
"  Mistress  Patience  did  greatly  want  an  English  Bible, 
and  Margaret  did  give  me  a  Testament  and  also  a 
Psalter  for  her  use,  which  I  gave  her,  and  which  are 
now  in  her  room." 

"  Mistress  Patience  !  "  they  both  exclaimed  together, 
and  the  Duke  added  with  some  sternness,  "  beware 
what  you  say,  Mistress.  I  have  ever  thought  Mis- 
tress Patience  the  most  devoted  of  Papists." 

"  She  thinks  herself  so  still,  your  Grace  !  "  said  I ; 
and  then  I  told  him  the  matter  from  first  to  last. 
The  Duke  could  not  forbear  smiling. 

"  'Twas  a  deed  of  true  Christian  charity,  and  most 
deftly  managed  !  "  said  he  ;  "  but  yet  it  might  make 
matters  worse  were  it  known.  Tell  me,  does  this  old 
dame  go  to  confession  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Grace.  She  is  not  able  to  walk  the 
length  of  the  gallery.  Her  strength  is  greatly  failed 
of  late,  and  I  think  not  she  will  live  long." 

"  And  does  any  priest  have  access  to  her  ?  " 

"  No  one,  as  I  think,  but  my  cousin  Walter,  your 
Grace's  chaplain,"  (for  Walter  had  been  promoted  to 
this  place  some  time  since,  and  had  preached  in  the 
chapel  more  than  once.)  "  Walter  has  prayed  with 


At  the  Great  Home.  231 

her  two  or  three  times,  so  she  has  told  me,  for  I  see 
not  as  much  of  her,  now  that  I  live  in  my  Lady 
Frances's  apartment." 

"  That  may  be  safe  enough  ! "  said  he,  pulling  his 
beard  as  was  his  wont  when  he  was  thoughtful. 
"  Hawks  will  not  pick  out  hawks'  eyes,  as  they  say  on 
the  Border.  Well,  Mistress  Corbet,  I  believe  you  are 
safe  for  the  present,  but  I  would  have  you  keep  your 
chamber  this  day.  Your  mistress  will  excuse  your 
attendance,  and " 

His  words  received  a  disagreeable  interruption. 
The  house  had  been  finished  in  some  haste,  and  more 
than  once  small  pieces  of  plaster  had  fallen  from  the 
ceiling.  Now,  casting  my  eyes  upward,  I  saw  that 
directly  over  where  the  Duchess  was  sitting  in  a  low 
chair,  a  great  portion  of  the  ceiling  was  parting,  and 
even  at  that  moment  falling.  There  was  no  time 
to  think.  I  sprang  upon  her,  pulling  her  to  the 
floor,  and  threw  myself  over  her. 

At  the  very  moment  I  felt  a  heavy  blow  on  my 
shoulders  and  head,  and  knew  no  more  till  I  heard  a 
familiar  voice  say,  in  a  tone  of  utmost  anguish  : 

"Loveday,  Loveday — my  darling,  for  my  sake, 
look  up  ! " 

Then  I  opened  mine  eyes,  and  saw  my  kinsman 
standing  over  me,  a  lancet  in  his  hand,  while  the 
blood  was  streaming  from  my  arm.  There  were 
others  about  me,  but  I  saw  no  one  else. 

"  Her  Grace  !  "  I  managed  to  say. 

"  Is  quite  unhurt,  thanks  to  you,  my  brave  child," 
said  Mistress  Curtis.  "  You  have  saved  her  life." 

"  Then  all  is  well,"  said  I,  sinking  back.  That  was 
ajl  I  cared  to  know.  For  days  I  lay  in  great  danger. 


232  Loveday's  History. 

but  not  in  any  great  suffering.  Sometimes  I  recog- 
nized those  about  me,  and  sometimes  not,  but  I  suf- 
fered little,  and  lay  most  of  the  time  in  a  kind  of 
contented  apathy.  I  had  the  best  attendance,  and 
Master  Butts,  the  king's  own  physician,  came  to  see 
me  at  the  Duke's  instance.  He  was  a  kind,  benevolent 
old  man,  and  much  valued  by  the  king,  though  he 
made  no  secret  of  his  leaning  to  the  new  doctrine.  I 
understood  all  his  questions,  and  made  a  great  effort 
to  answer  them  clearly,  but  I  was  conscious  all  the 
time  that  I  was  talking  arrant  nonsense.  I  saw  him 
shake  his  head  as  he  turned  away. 

"I  fear  there  is  not  much  hope,"  I  heard  him  say, 
in  a  low  tone  to  Mistress  Curtis.  "  If  she  lives  she 
will  be  a  lunatic,  or  more  likely,  an  idiot." 

I  understood  his  words,  and  they  somehow  angered 
me  and  roused  me  from  the  lethargy  which  was  again 
stealing  over  my  senses.  I  made  a  great  effort  to 
collect  myself,  and  said,  rather  sharply  : 

"I  won't  be  an  idiot !  I  know  what  I  wish  to  say, 
but — "  the  wrong  word  was  near  coming  again,  but 
I  caught  it  in  time — "I  don't  say  the  words  I 
mean." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  doctor,  returning  to  the  bed- 
side, and  regarding  me  with  renewed  interest.  "  You 
know  what  you  mean,  all  the  time  you  are  saying 
something  else.  Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  "  I  answered. 

"  Well,  you  must  be  a  good  girl  and  do  as  you  are 
bid,  and  we  will  hope  for  the  best.  I  think,  Mistress 
Curtis,  with  all  respect  to  Dr.  Benton's  opinion — " 
here  he  bowed  to  the  other  physician,  who  bowed 
again — "  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  try  our  patient 


At  the  Great  jffouse.  233 

with  a  little  more  nourishing  diet — carefully,  and  by 
degrees,  Dr.  Benton — and  watch  the  effect,  and  if 
there  is  any  friend  she  specially  wishes  to  see — as  I 
think  you  told  me  she  asked  for  some  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  has  often  asked  for  her  Aunt  Davis." 

"  Then,  let  her  see  her  aunt,  for  a  few  moments  at 
a  time,  only  cautioning  her  to  avoid  all  exciting 
topics.  In  short,  Mistress  Curtis,  you  might  as  well 
let  her  have  what  she  wants,  poor  thing.  I  do  not 
believe  it  will  make  any  difference." 

These  words  were  spoken  at  the  door,  and  I  was  not 
supposed  to  hear  them,  but  I  did,  and  knew  their  im- 
port well  enough.  I  was  not  at  all  troubled  at  the 
idea  of  dying,  but  somehow  I  seemed  to  have  an  as- 
surance in  my  mind  that  the  end  was  not  yet.  Mis- 
tress Curtis  brought  me  a  dainty  little  mess  of  frumity 
with  cream,  and  having  eaten  it  I  turned  over  and 
went  to  sleep.  I  must  have  slept  long,  for  when  I 
waked  it  was  growing  dark.  I  was  quite  easy  in  re- 
spect .of  pain,  and  my  head  felt  clear.  I  looked  up 
and  thought  I  was  dreaming  again,  when  I  saw  an  up- 
right little  figure  seated  by  the  side  of  my  bed. 

"  Aunt  Davis,  is  this  really  yourself  ?  "  I  asked,  put- 
ting out  my  hand  to  feel  if  she  were  a  substantial 
person. 

"  Yes,  my  sweet,"  tranquilly  answered  the  dear 
woman.  She  was  never  one  to  give  way  to  fits  and 
transports.  "  Mistress  Curtis  gave  me  leave  to  sit 
with  you  awhile.  Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  I  answered.  "  My  head  does  not 
ache  now,  and  I  can  see  every  thing  clearly."  It  had 
been  one  of  my  worst  annoyances  that  I  saw  all  objects 
either  double  or  distorted.  My  aunt  felt  my  pulse 


234  Loveday^s  History. 

and  my  forehead,  and  helped  me  to  a  drink.  Then 
she  sat  down  again,  and  for  awhile  I  was  content  to 
lie  and  look  at  her.  She  had  grown  old  a  good  deal, 
it  seemed  to  me.  And  her  face  had  a  look  of  patient 
endurance  which  did  not  use  to  belong  to  it. 

"  Aunt,"  I  asked,  presently,  "  where  is  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Safe,  as  we  hope,"  answered  Mistress  Davis.  "  We 
know  the  vessel  reached  the  Brill  in  safety,  and  once 
there,  Master  Hall  would  be  among  good  friends." 

"  Thank  God— and  how  is  Master  Davis  ?  " 

"  He  is  well,"  she  answered.  "  We  were  in  peril 
for  a  time,  but  we  have  been  unmolested." 

Satisfied  on  these  points,  I  lay  awhile  longer. 
Then  I  asked  again,  "  How  is  Philippa  ?  " 

A  smile  played  over  Mistress  Davis's  face  which 
made  her  look  like  herself  again. 

"  Why  well,  and  more  than  well,"  said  she.  "  Phil- 
ippa is  married." 

"  Married  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Even  so,  and  to  whom,  think  you  ?  To  no  one 
less  than  Robert  Collins." 

"  Not  Robert  Collins — Avice's  cousin — not  the  one 
who  was  to  have  become  a  brother  of  the  Charter- 
house," said  I. 

"  Exactly.     That  very  Robert  Collins." 

I  burst  out  laughing,  and  somehow  that  laugh  did 
seem  to  dissipate  the  last  cloud  from  my  brain. 

"  But  how  did  it  come  about  ?  They  used  to  be- 
wail their  hard  fate  together  in  not  being  allowed  to 
take  the  vows." 

"  Exactly,  and  they  continued  to  bewail  them  till 
it  came  into  their  heads  that  since  they  could  not  take 
those  vows  they  might  as  well  try  some  others. 


At  the  Great  House.  235 

Moreover,  Robert  came  unexpectedly  into  quite  a 
good  estate  by  the  death  of  his  mother's  brother. 
He  thought  it  his  duty  to  take  a  wife,  as  he  was  the 
last  of  his  father's  family,  and  so  it  came  about." 

"  I  dare  say  Philippa  persuaded  herself  all  the  time 
that  she  was  making  a  great  sacrifice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course;  but  she  was  as  elated  at  the  prospect 
as  any  girl  I  ever  saw,  and  as  much  agog  for  finery, 
especially  for  a  silk  dress.  One  of  the  first  things 
that  seemed  to  strike  her  was  that,  as  Robert  was  a 
gentleman  of  landed  estate,  she  might  now  wear  silk 
and  velvet." 

"  It  must  be  a  comfort  to  have  her — "  out  of  the 
house,  I  was  going  to  say,  but  I  changed  that  phrase 
to  "  well  settled  in  life." 

My  aunt  smiled.  "  I  will  not  deny  that  it  is  a 
relief.  She  was  one  of  those  people  of  whom  you  can 
never  guess  what  they  will  do  next.  But  she  has 
been  more  amiable  of  late,  and  as  Robert  is  a  good- 
humored  man  with  a  will  of  his  own,  I  hope  they 
may  be  reasonably  happy." 

"  He  would  need  a  good  strong  will,  or  none  at  all, 
to  live  peaceably  with  her,"  said  I.  "  In  all  my  life  I 
never  saw  so  perverse  a  person." 

"  Well,  well,  she  was  a  trial,  no  doubt,  but  there 
are  others  as  bad.  This  is  a  life  of  trial,  sweetheart, 
in  one  way  and  another.  But  it  grows  dark  and  I 
must  go.  I  will  see  you  again  in  a  day  or  two,  if  you 
are  no  worse  for  this  visit." 

I  slept  well  that  night  and  awoke  feeling  quite  my- 
self. From  that  day  my  recovery  was  rapid.  The  doc- 
tor said  I  might  soon  leave  my  chamber,  and  he  advised 
rny  mistress  that  it  would  be  well  to  send  me  to  Mas- 


236  Loveday's  History. 

ter  Davis's,  for  a  while,  or  else  to  the  country,  for 
change  of  scene. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  go  down  to  Master  Yates's 
farm  ?  "  asked  my  aunt  one  day  when  we  were  discus- 
sing the  matter.  "  You  remember  you  staid  there 
when  you  were  getting  over  the  ague,  before  you  went 
to  the  convent." 

"  Then  the  old  people  are  still  living  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  hale  and  hearty  and  well-to-do,  and 
would  be  glad  to  have  you  for  a  guest.  I  think  it 
would  be  a  very  good  thing  for  you." 

"And  the  Duchess?" 

"  I  mentioned  the  matter  to  her  and  she  agreed 
with  me  that  it  would  be  a  sensible  move,  though  she 
disliked  losing  your  company.  But  she  is  not  one  to 
think  of  herself." 

"  That  she  is  not,"  said  I.  "  She  is  a  most  sweet 
creature.  She  shows  the  truth  of  what  dear  Mar- 
garet used  to  say,  that  it  is  not  wealth  nor  the  want 
thereof  that  spoils  people,  but  the  spirit  in  which  they 
take  it." 

"  Then  you  will  like  to  go  out  to  Hoi  worthy  farm  ?  " 
said  my  aunt. 

"Indeed  I  shall,"  I  answered,  and  the  Duchess  com- 
ing in  (as  indeed  she  was  used  to  visit  me  every  day), 
the  matter  was  settled. 

"  I  must  visit  Mrs.  Patience  before  I  go,"  said  I. 
"  How  is  the  dear  old  lady  ?  " 

"  Why  well,"  answered  Mrs.  Curtis,  but  there  was 
something  in  her  tone  that  made  me  ask  at  once  : 

"  Is  she  dead  ?  " 

"  Even  so,"  answered  Mistress  Curtis,  solemnly  ; 
"  but  do  not  weep  for  her,  dear  Loveday.  She  passed 


At  the  Great  House.  237 

in  the  greatest  peace  and  joy  that  was  ever  seen.  She 
told  Master  Walter,  who  prayed  often  beside  her, 
that  you  had  taught  her  the  true  way  of  peace,  and 
had  comforted  her  concerning  the  great  sorrow  of 
her  life." 

"  I  am  most  thankful  if  it  were  so,"  said  I,  when  I 
could  speak;  and  then  I  told  Mistress  Curtis  of  the 
dear  loyal  soul's  trouble  because  no  one  had  made  the 
pilgrimage  to  Walsingham  on  behalf  of  her  dead  mis- 
tress. 

"  And  was  it  even  so,  poor  soul  ?  "  said  Mistress  Cur- 
tis. "  I  doubt  not,  many  hearts  are  aching  from  the 
same  cause  in  these  days  of  change  and  shaking. 
May  the  time  soon  come  when  all  shall  know  the 
blessing  of  a  free  redemption.  Master  Corbet  says 
he  never  saw  any  one  pass  more  peacefully  than  Mis- 
tress Patience. 

"  Is  my  cousin  well  ?  "  I  forced  myself  to  say.  I 
had  never  yet  brought  myself  to  speak  his  name. 

"  I  do  not  think  him  well,"  answered  Mistress  Cur- 
tis. "  He  hath  been  very  anxious  for  you,  and  I 
think  he  works  and  studies  too  hard,  for  he  grows 
pale  and  thin.  He  talks  of  resigning  his  post,  and 
going  back  to  his  cure  in  the  west,  but  I  trust  he  will 
not  do  so,  for  the  sake  of  one  young  gentleman  over 
whom  he  hath  come  to  maintain  a  great  influence." 

It  was  a  joy  to  me  to  hear  Walter  praised,  but  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  say  any  more  about  him.  I 
had  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  and  to  examine  myself 
since  I  began  to  recover,  spending  as  I  did  a  good 
many  hours  alone.  I  knew  well  enough  what  Walter 
was  to  me,  and  I  to  him.  I  had  been  thrown  a  deal 
into  his  company  for  a  good  while  before  I  was  sick, 


238  Loveday's  History. 

he  having  undertaken  in  some  degree  the  direction  of 
my  Lady  Frances's  education.  We  had  been  brought 
up  together  as  children,  which  naturally  threw  us 
upon  more  familiar  terms  than  would  otherwise  have 
subsisted  between  us.  It  was  not  strange  that  an- 
other and  dearer  feeling  should  have  arisen,  and  that 
without  either  being  aware  of  it  till  the  shock  of  my 
accident  had  revealed  us  to  each  other.  But  what 
could  ever  come  of  it  ?  Only  for  that  fatal  vow  of 
celibacy  we  might  have  married  and  settled  like  other 
folk,  for  our  kinship  was  hardly  near  enough  for 
the  need  of  a  dispensation  even  in  the  days  of  dispen- 
sation, and  nobody  thought  of  such  a  thing  now. 
But  there  it  was,  an  iron  bar  in  the  way,  or  rather  a 
grated  gate  fast  locked  and  the  key  whereof  is  held 
by  some  one  far  away.  We  could  see  one  another, 
indeed,  but  that  was  all,  and  under  the  circumstances 
it  was  better  to  avoid  even  that.  Yes,  it  was  far  bet- 
ter for  me  to  go  away,  and  a  wild  unreasoning  desire 
for  flight  and  change  of  place  took  possession  of  me. 
I  do  not  think  any  one  guessed  at  the  truth,  except 
the  Duchess  herself.  She  has  since  told  me  that  she 
saw  it  at  once,  and  not  at  that  time  perceiving  any  rem- 
edy, she  did  the  more  willingly  part  with  me.  Lady 
Frances  was  loud  in  her  lamentations,  and  inclined  to  be 
vexed  with  me  for  wishing  to  leave  her;  but  a  few  words 
from  her  mother  calmed  her  anger,  or  rather  turned  it 
upon  herself,  for  being,  as  she  said,  so  selfish  as  to  desire 
to  keep  me  for  my  hurt.  Both  the  Duchess  and  Lady 
Frances  loaded  me  with  presents  of  every  thing  they 
thought  I  would  like,  and  I  found  myself  heir  to  all 
poor  Mistress  Patience's  possessions,  among  which 
were  a  good  many  jewels  of  no  small  value,  which  I 


At  the  Great  House. 

hesitated  about  taking  till  the  Duchess  pressed  them 
upon  me. 

"  You  cannot  well  take  the  cabinet,  so  I  will  have 
it  cared  for  till  you  are  settled  in  a  home  of  your 
own,"  said  she. 

"  That  will  never  be,"  said  I,  involuntarily. 

"  Oh,  you  know  not  that,"  she  answered,  and  began 
singing  an  old  song  of  which  I  remember  but  the  last 
verse  : 

"  If  you  should  deal  two  loving  hearts 

The  sharpest  stroke  of  woe  ; 
That  one  should  weep  above  the  turf 

And  one  should  sleep  below  : 
That  one  should  wear  the  widow's  weed 

And  one  the  funeral  pall, 
You  should  but  prove  the  force  of  love, 

For  true  love  conquers  all ! " 

"  Forgive,  me  sweet,"  as  she  saw  that  I  was  weep- 
ing, "  but  I  do  believe  that  this  year  may  yet  come  to 
a  good  ending.  Man  hath  no  right  to  forbid  that 
which  God  hath  nowhere  forbidden.  Do  but  put 
your  trust  in  Him,  and  all  will  yet  be  well." 

The  Duke  had  insisted  upon  lending  Mistress  Davis 
an  easy  palfrey,  and  me  a  horse  litter,  as  I  was  yet 
too  feeble  to  ride  a-horseback  safely,  and  also  a 
guard  for  the  journey.  My  mistress  would  fain  have 
had  me  take  a  maid  to  attend  upon  me,  but  this,  with 
Mistress  Curtis  her  approval,  I  declined,  knowing 
that  such  a  person  would  but  be  a  nuisance  in  the 
family  of  plain  people  like  Jacob  and  Hannah  Yates. 
I  was  to  keep  the  palfrey,  however,  and  the  duke 
would  bear  this  as  well  as  all  my  other  expenses. 

"  Should  this  change  agree  with  you,  you  may  by 


240  Loveday^s  History. 

and  by  travel  down  to  Hereham,"  said  his  Grace,  "  but 
wherever  you  are,  remember,  Mistress  Corbet,  that 
you  are  to  be  to  us  as  a  daughter.  Do  what  I  would, 
I  could  never  begin  to  repay  the  obligation  I  owe  to 
you  in  saving  my  dear  wife  from  death  or  life-long 
injury." 

"I  thought  not  of  any  obligation,  your  Grace," 
said  I. 

"  That  is  the  beauty  of  it,"  he  answered,  with  that 
sweet,  sunny  smile  of  his  ;  my  Lady  Frances's  eldest 
boy  hath  just  his  grandsire's  manner  ;  "you  did  not 
stop  to  think — that  was  the  beauty  of  it,  as  I  say- 
but  acted  out  of  the  love  and  goodness  of  your  heart. 
It  was  a  happy  hour  for  all  of  us  when  you  came  un- 
der this  roof,  and  I  hope  you  may  come  back  to  it 
some  day.  But  now,  my  child,  let  me  give  you  a 
word  of  serious  counsel.  Keep  you  close  and 
guarded,  and  go  not  much  abroad.  There  is  no  game 
too  small  for  some  hawks  to  fly  at.  I  would  I  knew 
where  your  good  uncle  was  that  I  might  send  you  to 
him,  out  of  the  reach  of  danger.  If  at  any  time  I 
send  one  to  guide  you  to  another  place  of  safety,  I 
will  send  with  him  this  token,"  showing  me  a  ring  he 
was  used  to  wear,  "  and  do  you  go  with  him  at  once, 
without  any  delay  or  question." 

I  promised  to  do  so,  and  so  he  bade  me  farewell, 
with  as  much  kindness  as  ever  a  great  man  showed 
to  a  poor  young  gentlewoman.  He  hath  ever  re- 
mained in  my  mind  the  very  mirror  and  pattern  of  a 
noble  man.  He  was  not  without  his  faults  (as  who 
is  ?),  but  no  one  could  say  he  ever  curried  favor  with 
a  great  man,  or  ever  oppressed  a  poor  one.  Not  one 
of  his  own  family,  down  to  the  very  scullery  boys 


At  the  Great  House.  241 

and  wenches,  ever  passed  him  without  a  smile  or  a 
kind  word,  and  nobody  ever  sat  at  his  table  without 
feeling  himself  a  welcome  guest.  He  was,  indeed, 
what  my  uncle  Davis  had  called  him,  a  mirror  of  true 
knighthood. 

I  saw  Walter  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  not 
alone.  It  was  better  so;  yet  did  my  heart  yearn  for  a 
word,  as  I  am  sure  his  did  also.  He  hath  since  told 
me  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak  lest  he  should 
say  too  much.  Our  eyes  did  meet  and  speak  ;  we 
could  not  help  that.  Oh,  how  much  have  they  to 
answer  for,  who  oppress  men's  hearts  and  consciences 
by  making  that  to  be  sin  which  the  Word  of  God 
never  made  so  ;  who  bind  heavy  burdens  and  grievous 
to  be  borne,  and  lay  them  on  men's  shoulders,  and 
will  not  so  much  as  touch  them  with  one  of  their 
fingers  ! 

Our  hands  met  in  one  long  clasp  as  he  helped 
me  to  my  litter.  I  never  thought  to  see  him  again, 
for  I  had  heard  that  he  meant  speedily  to  return  to  his 
home  in  the  west.  The  last  farewell  was  said,  and  I 
lost  sight  of  Sussex  House  never  to  enter  its  doors 
again. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  DUKE'S  RING. 

I  ARRIVED  at  Hoi  worthy  farm  about  noon, 
weary  enough  with  my  journey  and  all  the  ex- 
citement I  had  gone  through,  so  that  I  was  fain 
to  go  at  once  to  my  chamber.  I  was  really  too  ill  to 
take  much  notice  of  any  thing  for  a  day  or  two,  and  my 
aunt  was  a  good  deal  alarmed  for  me,  but  by  degrees  I 
recovered  myself,  and  began  to  sit  up  and  to  go  out  into 
the  gitting-room  which  had  been  fitted  up  for  me.  I 
found  it  full  of  tokens  of  kindness  from  the  friends  I 
had  left  behind  me.  There  was  the  clavichord 
which  I  had  used  at  Sussex  House,  with  a  pile  of 
music  books  beside  it,  my  embroidery  frame,  and  a 
heap  of  silks,  and  the  like,  books  in  Latin  and  French, 
and  even  a  box  of  comfits  and  dried  fruits  from  old 
Harry  Cook — so  good  were  they  all  in  remembering 
me. 

I  found  the  farmer  and  his  wife  very  little 
changed,  save  that  Hannah's  apple  cheeks  were  a  little 
wrinkled  by  the  same  frost  which  had  whitened  her 
husband's  locks.  Dolly  was  still  at  home,  a  widow 
now  with  a  sweet  little  boy  and  girl,  the  pets  and 
Darlings  of  both  gaffer  and  gammar.  Matters  had 


The  Duke's  Ring.  243 

prospered  with  this  good  couple,  and  they  were  rich 
for  people  in  their  station,  but  they  were  content  with 
their  old  simple  ways,  and  did  not  ape  the  manners  of 
their  betters  as  is  the  fashion  nowadays.  You 
would  never  find  Hannah  Yates  lying  in  bed  till  after 
five  of  the  clock  and  putting  off  her  dinner  hour 
till  eleven.  No  ;  she  was  up  and  stirring,  and  had 
every  one  else  busy  by  four,  and  the  dinner  was  on 
the  table  before  the  stroke  of  nine — master  and  mis- 
tress, men  and  maids  all  eating  together  in  the  great 
kitchen,  and  gathering  about  the  same  hearth  in  the 
winter  evenings.  Hannah  would  fain  have  served  us 
with  a  separate  table,  but  this  we  would  by  no  means 
allow,  and  I  think  she  liked  us,  after  all,  better  for  the 
refusal. 

I  grew  stronger  every  day,  and  began  to  go  about 
house  and  out  of  doors,  to  help  feed  the  fowls,  and 
to  gather  greens,  peas  and  herbs  for  the  pottage  ;  but 
mindful  of  his  Grace's  words,  I  did  never  stray  far  from 
home.  My  aunt  staid  with  me  a  week,  and  then  re- 
turned, but  I  heard  from  her  not  seldom,  as  the  Duchess 
sent  more  than  once  to  ask  for  me,  and  never  without 
affording  Master  and  Mistress  Davis  a  chance  of  writ- 
ing or  sending  by  the  same  conveyance. 

As  my  health  returned,  I  began  to  miss  the  constant 
occupation  I  had  been  used  to  all  my  life.  I  had 
often  been  ready  to  yawn  my  head  off  from  sheer 
weariness  while  standing  behind  my  mistress's  chair, 
but  at  other  times  I  had  found  great  entertainment  in 
listening  to  the  conversation  which  went  on  in  the 
drawing-room.  Then  I  had  been  promoted  to  the 
place  of  teacher  to  my  Lady  Frances,  who  was  a  de- 
lightful companion  (if  I  may  venture  to  use  the  wprci 


244  Lovedaifs  History. 

of  so  great  a  young  lady),  as  was  also  her  governess, 
Mrs.  Wardour.  I  loved  Mistress  Curtis  like  a  mother, 
and  I  missed  them  all,  not  to  speak  of  another,  on 
whom  I  dared  not  allow  my  thoughts  to  dwell.  I  was 
fast  sinking  into  a  state  of  nerves  and  fancies,  just  for 
the  want  of  aught  else  to  do,  when  something  hap- 
pened to  rouse  me.  It  was  not  much — only  a  sermon 
from  a  stranger  priest  who  visited  our  own  parish 
Sir  John,  and  preached  for  him.  His  subject  was  the 
bearing  of  the  cross,  and  he  repeated  for  his  text  the 
words  of  our  Lord  himself: 

"  Gyf  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  hym  denye 
hym  silfe,  and  take  his  cross  on  hym  and  followe 
me."  * 

It  did  seem  to  me  that  the  good  man's  discourse  had 
been  written  expressly  for  me.  It  was  as  plain  as  a 
mother's  talk  with  her  children  ;  not  full  of  Latin, 
nor  yet  of  stories  to  make  the  people  laugh,  like  those 
of  the  preaching  friars  in  general.  The  preacher 
showed  how  each  one  had  his  cross  to  bear,  and  that 
not  of  his  own  choosing,  but  of  God's.  The  crosses 
we  chose  for  ourselves  were  many  times  but  painted 
crosses,  while  those  which  our  Father  in  heaven  laid 
upon  us  were  real — hard  and  sharp  oftentimes,  but 
yet  capable  of  being  made  into  a  blessing  if  we  did 
but  take  them  up  and  carry  them  according  to  His 
will  and  in  his  spirit.  Much  more  he  said  which  I 
will  not  try  to  repeat — about  the  little  crosses  of  every 
day,  the  thwarting  of  our  plans,  the  fault-findings 
and  injustice  of  those  we  are  trying  our  best  to  save, 
and  other  such  like  trials,  which  might  all  be  turned — 

*From  Tyndale's  translation. 


The  Duke's  Ring.  245 

so  said  the  preacher — from  curses  to  crosses,  if  only 
met  in  the  right  spirit.  It  was  a  very  plain  and  sim- 
ple discourse  as  I  said,  but  it  did  me  a  great  deal  of 
good.  It  made  me  sensible  that  I  had  been  repining 
and  fretting  over  my  cross  instead  of  taking  it  up, 
and  that  I  had  thus  missed  the  blessing  which  I  might 
have  found  even  in  the  bitter  grief  which  had  been 
darkening  both  heaven  and  earth  for  me. 

"  What  think  you  of  that  sermon  ?"  said  Master 
Yates  to  one  of  his  neighbors,  as  they  lingered  at  the 
church  door  for  the  usual  greeting  and  gossip. 

"  Humph  !  Call  that  a  sermon  ! "  answered  the 
other.  "  Why,  there  was  not  a  bit  of  Latin  in  it, 
and  even  a  plain  man  like  me  could  understand  every 
word." 

"  Now  that  was  the  beauty  of  it,  to  my  thinking," 
said  Master  Yates.  "  Where  is  the  use  of  a  sermon 
that  nobody  understands  ?  " 

"  Yes,  those  are  your  new-fangled  ways.  What  is 
the  use  of  the  blessed  mass  ;  I  am  sure  nobody  un- 
derstood a  word  of  that  ?  " 

"  A  good  many  folks  would  like  to  hear  that  riddle 
solved,"  said  a  decent  man  who  stood  near.  Whereat 
two  or  three  laughed,  and  old  Master  Andrews  moved 
away,  muttering  angrily  that  it  was  never  a  good 
world  since  these  new  notions  came  into  it.  A  fine 
thing,  indeed,  when  shepherds  and  plowmen  took  on 
them  to  think  about  such  matters. 

For  myself,  I  went  home  with  plenty  of  subject 
for  thought,  and  the  result  of  my  cogitations  was 
that  the  next  morning  I  offered  to  teach  Dolly's  chil- 
dren to  read.  She  was  very  thankful  for  the  offer, 
and  I  began  with  them  on  the  criss-cross  row  that 


246  /,")'<  «Vfy\s-  History. 

very  day.  Afterward  I  sot  myself  a  task  of  music 
and  Latin,  and  even  got  out  my  Greek  books,  but  the 
last  I  bad  to  give  up,  finding  myself  unequal  to  the 
hard  work.  I  soon  discovered  that  my  head  would 
not  bear  much  study,  so  I  set  myself  to  learning  the 
mysteries  of  farm-work.  I  fed  the  chickens  and  the 
calves,  learned  to  make  cheese  and  butter,  and,  in 
turn,  taught  Dolly  and  her  mother  how  to  make  con- 
serves of  gooseberries  and  plums,  and  other  such 
things  as  I  had  learned  in  the  convent.  I  had  the  art 
of  distilling — then  by  no  means  as  common  as  it  has 
since  become — at  my  finger's  ends.  Finding  that 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  ague  about  us,  I  begged 
Mistress  Curtis  to  send  me  a  small  still,  and  busied  my- 
self in  making  a  certain  bitter  cordial  from  cherry 
bark  and  herbs,  which  used  to  be  esteemed  a  specific 
in  such  cases  at  Dartford.  Also,  I  made  cough-mix- 
ture and  other  simple  medicines,  and  carried  them 
myself  to  the  poor  sick  folks,  together  with  broth 
and  such  matters.  I  have  heard  say  that  folks  forget 
their  own  troubles  in  those  of  other  people.  I  did 
not  forget  mine,  but  I  certainly  found  a  good  deal  of 
the  bitterness  taken  out  of  them. 

I  believe  I  have  said  that  there  was  a  certain 
ruined  chapel  or  cell  on  Master  Yates  his  farm, 
which  bore  no  good  name,  and  was  indeed  re- 
puted to  be  haunted  by  evil  spirits.  Nobody 
willingly  went  near  it  even  in  broad  day, 
and  I  don't  think  the  boldest  man  in  the  neighbor- 
hood would  have  passed  it  after  dark  for  any  reward 
you  could  offer.  Indeed  Master  Yates  had  strictly 
forbidden  any  of  his  own  family  to  approach  the 
place,  saying  that  there  was  no  knowing  what  might 


The  IhikJs  Ring.  247 

happen.  I  had  been  to  the  little  hamlet  near  the 
church  to  visit  and  comfort  a  poor  young  thing  dying 
of  a  waste.  My  mind  was  so  full  of  what  I  had  seen 
that  I  took  the  wrong  turning,  and  found  myself  all 
of  a  sudden  close  in  front  of  the  ruined  cell,  with  the 
sun  setting  and  a  sudden  hard  shower  beginning  to 
fall.  Still  I  did  not  really  take  a  sense  of  my  position, 
but  seeing  that  the  deep  porch  was  the  only  shelter 
near,  I  fled  under  it  to  avoid  the  rain  which  promised 
to  be  of  short  duration,  as  the  sun  was  already  shin- 
ing. I  was  never  a  coward,  and  the  poor  little  chapel 
looked  so  peaceful  in  its  green  ivy  shroud,  that  I 
could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  be  afraid,  but  stood 
quietly  waiting  for  the  rain  to  cease.  I  was  listening 
to  the  twittering  of  a  pair  of  robins  who  had  built  in 
one  of  the  windows,  and  thinking  that  the  place  could 
not  be  so  very  bad  since  these  pretty  innocent  crea- 
tures had  chosen  it  for  a  place  of  abode,  when  I 
started  as  I  had  never  done  in  all  my  life  before,  for  I 
heard  my  name  called.  I  turned  round  in  a  hurry, 
and  there  in  the  dim  arched  doorway  stood  my  uncle. 

I  was  like  one  who  has  seen  the  Gorgon's  head 
for  a  moment.  Then  as  he  smiled  in  his  old  way  I 
flew  to  him — I  would  have  fallen  at  his  feet,  but  he 
drew  me  into  the  cell,  and  then  clasping  me  in  his 
arms,  he  kissed '  and  blessed  me,  calling  me  his 
own,  his  precious  child,  and  weeping  over  me, 
more  like  a  mother  over  her  babe  than  a  bearded  man. 

"  But  how  did  you  come  here,  and  why  do  you  stay 
in  this  wretched  place  ?  "  I  asked,  when  he  had  told 
me  that  my  Aunt  Joyce  was  still  living  and  that  the 
twins  were  well.  "  Come  to  the  house  where  Mistress 
Yates  will  make  you  right  welcome." 


248  Loveday*s  History. 

"Nay,  that  the  good  woman  hath  done  already, 
and  the  place  is  by  no  means  so  wretched  as  you 
think,"  said  mine  uncle;  "  I  am  not  the  first  who  hath 
found  shelter  in  these  walls.  See  here." 

The  ruin,  like  other  places  of  that  kind,  was  made 
up  of  a  little  chapel  where  the  hermit  said  his  daily 
office,  and  a  room  adjoining  where  he  had  lived. 
Mine  uncle  drew  me  into  this  cell,  for  it  was  little 
more,  and  showed  me  a  decent  truckle  bed  with 
blankets  and  a  pillow,  and  a  table  whereon  was  set 
out  a  lamp,  tumblers,  and  other  requisites  for  a  meal. 
On  the  hearth  was  a  pile  of  firewood,  and  in  a  little 
cabinet  were  drinking  cups,  a  small  bottle  of  strong 
waters  and  a  jug  of  oil  for  the  lamp.  In  short,  this 
ghost-haunted  ruin  was  as  comfortable  a  little  lodg- 
ing as  one  need  ask  for. 

"  But  how  came  you  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  On  my  feet,  sweetheart — and  I  came  because  I 
heard  my  child  was  here,  and  I  could  not  rest  without 
seeing  her." 

"  But  why  must  you  hide,  dear  uncle  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  For  no  cause,  my  child,  unless  it  be  that,  '  after  the 
way  they  call  heresy,  so  worship  I  the  God  of  my 
fathers.'  I  have  been  in  my  old  home  in  London  and 
must  return  thither  in  order  to  make  my  way  back  to 
Holland  ;  but,  as  I  said,  I  must  needs  see  my  child 
once  more,  and  so  I  came  down  to  this  place  which 
hath  sheltered  many  a  one  fleeing  from  the  snare  of  the 
fowler  before  now.  But,  Loveday,  is  it  safe  for  you 
to  tarry  here  ?  Will  they  not  be  looking  for  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  true — I  must  go  !  "  said  I,  awaking  all  at 
once  to  a  sense  of  my  situation. 

"  But  how  shall  I  see  you  again  ?  " 


The  Duke's  Ring.  249 

"  Yates  will  come  hither  at  midnight  to  bring  me 
provisions,  and  you  can  come  with  him." 

"  Then  he  knows  you  are  here  !  " 

"  He  will  know  !  "  said  mine  uncle,  smiling.  "  The 
very  thing  which  will  keep  others  away  will  bring 
him  to  succor  the  wanderer — See  !  " 

I  had  before  noticed  some  pipes,  which  looked  like 
the  remains  of  an  old  organ,  on  the  wall  behind  the 
niche  where  I  supposed  the  miraculous  image  had 
stood.  My  uncle  blew  into  one  of  these,  producing  a 
most  dolorous  sound  between  a  whistle  and  a  scream. 
I  understood  the  matter  at  once.  That  was  the 
ghost  whose  shrieks,  heard  at  night,  had  made  the 
place  so  dreadful. 

"  This  pipe  was  a  part,  no  doubt,  of  the  machinery 
by  which  the  miraculous  virgin  was  made  to  play  her 
part,"  said  mine  uncle.  "  But  go  you  now,  since  the  way 
is  clear,  and  at  midnight  we  will  meet  again." 

I  hurried  home,  but  mistook  my  path  again  in 
the  perturbation  of  my  spirits,  and  came  near  getting 
bogged  in  a  stream  which  I  had  to  cross.  However, 
I  reached  home  at  last,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by 
Cicely,  our  old  dairy  maid — 

"  Dear  me,  Mistress  Corbet,  I  wonder  you  dare  be 
abroad  so  late.  Why,  Hodge  heard  a  scream  from 
the  old  cell,  not  an  hour  ago,  which  sent  him  home 
shaking  like  an  ague.  You  are  over  venturesome, 
and  will  get  a  good  fright  some  day,  but,  indeed,  you 
look  as  if  you  had  had  that  already." 

"  That  I  did,  and  lost  my  way,  so  I  had  to  ford  the 
Black  brook,  and  a  fine  pickle  I  am  in ! "  said  I, 
showing  her  my  wet  feet  and  skirts.  "  I  must  change 
my  hosen  directly." 


250  Loveday^s  History. 

"That  you  must,  but  why  did  you  not  go  bad* 
— only  I  dare  say  you  were  afraid  !  "  said  Cicely, 
being  one  of  those  convenient  persons  who  always 
answer  their  own  questions.  "  There,  run  up  to  your 
room,  like  a  good  young  lady,  and  I  will  bring  you  a 
mug  of  hot  drink,  and  tell  the  mistress  you  are  safe, 
for  she  has  been  worrying  about  you.  Had  you  not 
best  go  to  your  warm  bed  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !  "  I  answered.  "  I  will  but  change  my 
clothes,  and  1  shall  be  none  the  worse.  I  dare  say  the 
mistress's  ankle  needs  bandaging  again."  For  Mis- 
tress Yates  had  had  the  misfortune  to  wrench  her 
ankle,  and  I  had  been  trying  my  surgical  skill  thereon 
with  very  good  results. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  good  maid — young  lady,  I  should 
say  ! "  said  Cicely,  correcting  herself,  for  she  had 
lived  in  a  great  family,  and  prided  herself  on  her 
knowledge  of  manners.  "  You  are  not  one  as  thinks 
first  and  always  of  herself.  But  don't  you  be  out 
after  dark — there's  a  good  maid,  and  above  all,  don't 
go  near  the  old  chapel." 

I  hastened  to  change  my  dress,  and  to  attend  to  my 
patient,  who  was  doing  well.  Then  seeking  out 
Master  Yates,  I  told  him  of  my  adventure. 

"Ay,  I  heard  the  signal  and  saw  the  light,  and 
guessed  it  was  my  good  old  landlord  who  needed 
help  ! "  said  Master  Yates,  thoughtfully  stroking  his 
beard.  "  I  had  word  by  a  sure  hand  that  he  was  to 
be  expected,  and  had  all  things  in  readiness,  and  I 
was  studying  to  advertise  you  of  the  same.  I  did  not 
like  to  tell  you  till  I  was  sure,  for  fear  of  a  disap- 
pointment. To-night,  then,  at  midnight  we  will  seek 
the  place,  if  you  be  not  afraid — but  I  see  I  need  not 
talk  of  that !  "  he  added,  smiling. 


The  Duke's  Ring.  251 

"  No  indeed  !  "  said  I.  "  At  midnight,  then,  I  will 
be  ready." 

The  chime  of  midnight  from  the  church-tower 
found  me  well  wrapped  up  and  clinging  to  Master 
Yates's  arm,  making  our  way  across  the  stack-yard 
and  along  the  edge  of  the  standing  corn  to  the  ruined 
cell.  We  found  mine  uncle  asleep,  but  a  word  roused 
him. 

"  Now  I  can  give  you  three  hours  for  your  con- 
verse," said  Master  Yates.  "  The  nights  are  longer 
than  they  were,  but  the  stroke  of  three  must  be  the 
signal  for  parting.  I  dare  not  make  it  later  lest  some 
one  should  be  stirring." 

So  saying,  he  took  a  rug  from  the  truckle  bed, 
and  throwing  himself  on  a  heap  of  straw  in  the  outer 
room  he  soon  gave  audible  tokens  of  being  sound 
asleep. 

"There  lies  one  of  the  best  men  ever  made  !  "  said 
mine  uncle  ;  "  but  for  him  and  his  good  wife,  many  a 
man  would  be  but  a  heap  of  charred  bones  and  white 
ashes  who  is  now  preaching  the  word;" 

"He  said  he  had  word  of  your  coming  before- 
hand," said  I ;  "  how  was  that  ?  " 

My  uncle  smiled.  "  That  I  may  hardly  tell  you, 
only  I  may  say  as  much  as  this,  that  they  of  the  new 
religion,  as  folks  call  it,  have  secret  intelligence  one 
with  another,  whereby  many  a  precious  life  hath  been 
saved  both  here  and  abroad,  mine  own  and  that  of  my 
good  son  Winter,  Katherine's  husband,  among  the 
number." 

"  Then  Katherine  is  married  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh  yes,  and  well  married,  though  not  brilliantly 
as  regards  this  world's  goods.  Her  husband  is  pastor 


252  Lov  eddy's  History. 

of  the  English  reformed  congregation  at  Middleburg. 
You  must  remember  him — Arthur  Winter,  whose 
father  lived  in  the  Minories." 

"  But  he  was  a  priest  !  "  said  I.     My  uncle  smiled, 

"Read  your  Bible  from  beginning  to  end,  child, 
and  if  you  can  find  one  word  which  makes  it  unlaw- 
ful for  a  priest  to  marry,  I  give  you  free  leave  to  call 
my  Katherine  by  the  worst  name  you  can  think 
of." 

Somehow  these  words  did  seem  like  a  gleam  of 
light  on  a  dark  night ;  but  I  had  no  time  to  dwell  on 
them  just  now. 

"And  Avice— ?" 

"  Avice  is  a  widow,  or  so  we  fear  !  "  said  he.  "  She 
married  a  good  man,  a  merchant,  and  rich  in  this  world's 
goods.  His  business  took  him  to  Madrid  a  year  ago, 
and  we  have  never  heard  of  him  since.  Avice  hopes 
still,  and  will  hope  to  the  end  of  her  days,  I  think,  but 
I  fear  she  will  never  see  her  husband  again  till  she 
meets- him  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling." 

"And  yourself,  dear  uncle  ?  We  heard  that  you 
had  lost  much  through  the  treachery  of  an  agent." 

"  Ay,  and  came  near  losing  mine  own  life  also,  but 
I  escaped  and  got  safe  to  Rotterdam,  where  the 
family  joined  me  after  awhile.  I  cannot  guess  how 
it  is  that  Master  Davis  hath  received  none  of  my  let- 
ters, save  that  letters  are  so  very  uncertain.  I  am  not 
so  rich  as  when  I  was  in  London,  yet  have  I  enough 
to  make  myself  and  my  family  comfortable.  But 
now  tell  me  of  yourself  and  how  you  have  fared  all 
these  long  years,  and  why  we  never  heard  from  you. 
Ah,  my  child,  I  have  had  many  a  bitter  draught  pre- 
pared for  me  by  mine  own  hasty  temper,  but  never  a 


The  Duke's  Ring.  253 

worse  than  I  brewed  for  myself  when  I  put  my 
brother's  orphan  child  into  such  hands." 

"  They  were  kind  hands  enough,  dear  uncle,  and, 
save  that  they  kept  your  letters  from  me,  I  have 
naught  whereof  to  blame  them,"  said  I,  and  with  that 
I  gave  him  a  short  history  of  my  life  up  to  the  present 
time. 

"  And  you  think  your  master  and  mistress  would 
be  willing  to  have  you  return  with  me,  if  it  could  be 
contrived  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it  !  "  I  answered.  "  His  Grace  said 
he  wished  he  could  send  me  to  you." 

"  I  must  have  speech  of  his  Grace,  and  I  think  I  see 
my  way  there,"  said  my  uncle.  "I  have  brought 
him  a  token  from  a  Flemish  lord,  a  friend  of  his,  and 
a  small  offering  on  mine  own  account.  I  will  see  him, 
and  lay  the  matter  before  him.  His  nobleness  is  well 
known  as  a  protector  of  the  oppressed  children  of 
God.  I  will  go  back  to  London  to-morrow,  and  do 
you  remain  here  till  you  have  certain  news  from  us." 

I  told  him  what  his  Grace  had  said  about  sending 
the  ring. 

"  That  is  well  thought  of.  I  will  take  the  best  coun- 
sel on  the  matter,  and,  meantime,  keep  you  quiet  and 
trust  that  all  will  yet  be  well." 

We  talked  and  talked  till  the  stroke  of  three  from 
the  church-tower  warned  us  it  was  time  to  part.  Mas- 
ter Yates  was  awakened  and  we  separated.  The 
farmer  and  myself  made  our  way  home  while  the 
first  streaks  of  dawn  were  reddening  the  Eastern  sky, 
and  reached  the  farmhouse  door  without  meeting  any 
body. 

"  Now,  go  you  to  rest,  my  young  lady,  and  trust 


254  Loveday^s  History. 

my  dame  to  make  your  excuses,"  said  the  good  man. 
"  It  is  not  very  healthful  for  young  maids  to  breathe 
the  night  air." 

I  went  to  my  room,  but  not  to  rest.  I  had  some- 
thing to  settle  before  I  could  sleep.  The  bitterest 
drop  in  my  cup  had  been  the  feeling  that  I  had  been 
guilty  of  a  great  and  dreadful  sin  in  loving  Walter, 
because  he  was  a  priest.  Such  a  love,  I  had  been 
taught  to  think,  was  a  horrible  sacrilege.  It  had  been 
a  misery  to  me  that,  try  as  I  would,  I  could  not  feel 
such  contrition  as  I  thought  my  wickedness  demanded, 
and  I  had  at  times  been  tempted  to  think  myself  aban- 
doned of  Heaven  for  this  reason.  My  uncle's  words  con- 
cerning Katherine's  marriage  had  thrown  a  gleam  of 
light  upon  the  matter.  It  was  like  a  sun-blink  to  a  trav- 
eler lost  among  fogs  and  fens.  It  seemed  to  show  me  for 
one  moment  the  safe  path,  and  I  could  not  rest  till  I 
made  the  matter  sure.  That  day  I  read  the  New 
Testament  straight  through  from  beginning  to  end, 
and  when,  at  midnight,  I  laid  it  down  and  sought  my 
much-needed  rest,  it  was  with  the  comfortable  con- 
viction that  though  my  love  for  Walter  was  hopeless 
there  was  no  guilt  in  it — that  I  might  even  (though 
with  due  submission  to  His  will)  ask  my  Heavenly 
Father  for  His  blessing  thereon.  And  then,  even 
though  we  never  met  in  this  world  again,  was  there 
not  that  other  home  in  the  Paradise  of  God  ?  I  do 
not  think  any  one  now  can  estimate  the  weight  which 
that  reading  took  from  my  heart  and  conscience.  1 
wondered  how  I  could  have  been  so  blinded,  having 
before  mine  eyes  the  facts — that  St.  Peter  and  St. 
James,  and  other  apostles  were  married,  and  took  their 
wives  with  them  on  their  apostolic  journeys — that 


TJie  Duke's  Ring.  255 

Paul  asserted  his  right  to  do  the  same  if  he  found  it 
convenient,  and  that  he  permitted,  if  he  did  not  abso- 
lutely commend,  the  new  bishops  of  the  Church  should 
be  married  men. 

Oh,  it  is  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  to  burden  tender 
consciences  by  making  that  to  be  sin  which  God  never 
made  so,  and  they  will  have  much  to  answer  for  who 
do  it.  Neither  is  it  a  thing  confined  to  Papists. 
There  are  people  in  these  days  who  make  as  much  of 
a  young  maid's  wearing  of  a  starched  ruff,  or  a  farthin- 
gale, or  reading  a  chapter  of  Master  Sidney's  Accadia — 
yea,  of  keeping  of  Christmas,  or  eating  of  pancakes 
on  a  Shrove  Tuesday — as  ever  Mother  Joanna  did  of 
not  believing  in  the  jaw-bone  of  St.  Lawrence.  Mas- 
ter Stubbs  his  new  book,  which  Philippa  sent  me 
last  week,  is  a  fine  example  of  this  kind  of  sin-mak- 
ing. Marry,  she  swallows  every  word  of  it,  and  one 
might  as  well  laugh  at  the  Miracle  of  Cana  as  at  the 
tale  of  the  black  cat  found  in  the  coffin  of  the  poor 
young  lady  which  was  "  setting  of  great  ruffs  and 
frizzing  of  hair  to  the  great  f eare  and  trouble  of  be- 
lievers." * 

It  was  with  a  much  lightened  heart  that  I  said  my 
prayers,  and  sought  the  sleep  I  so  much  needed,  nor 
did  I  open  my  eyes  till  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens  next  morning. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  you  have  had  a  good  sleep,  and  I 
am  sure  you  are  well  rested,"  said  Dame  Yates,  as  I 
bade  her  good  morning  in  the  dairy,  which  was  to 
her  what  his  study  is  to  a  Dutch  painter.  "  But  now, 

*  See  Phillip  Stubbes'  Anatomic  of  Abuses.  This  wonderful 
tale  is  quoted  at  length  in  Dr.  Drake's  excellent  and  agreeable 
book,  "  Shakespeare  and  His  Times." 


256  Lovedatfs  History. 

what    will    you    have    to    eat,    for    dinner  is  long 
done." 

"  Is  it  as  late  as  that  ?  "  I  asked  in  some  dismay. 
"  You  should  not  have  let  me  sleep  so  long." 

"  Oh  it  is  the  best  medicine  for  young  things,  and 
you  have  had  a  trying  time" — and  then  she  whispered 
in  my  ear — "  He  you  wot  of  is  safe  on  his  way,  and 
bids  you  be  ready  for  a  sudden  start;  so  you  must  eat 
and  drink  and  be  strong.  I  shall  bring  you  a  fresh 
egg  and  a  cup  of  cream  directly." 

And  nothing  would  serve,  but  she  must  purvey  me 
a  dainty  meal,  though  I  could  as  well  have  waited  on 
myself;  but  she  was  one  of  those  to  whom  service  was 
ever  a  pleasure.  I  ate  what  she  provided,  and  then, 
seeing  the  wisdom  of  mine  uncle's  advice,  I  arranged 
my  jewels — of  which,  thanks  to  Mrs.  Patience,  I  had 
good  store — so  that  I  could  easily  conceal  them  about 
me,  and  did  up  a  bundle  of  necessary  clothing,  and 
a  few  books,  which  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to 
leave  behind  me,  namely,  my  Bible,  my  Latin  Imita- 
tion, and  the  Book  of  Hours,  which  dear  mother 
prioress  had  given  me  at  our  sorrowful  parting.  Ah, 
how  far  away  did  that  parting  seem  now.  The  rest 
of  my  things  I  left  in  Dame  Yates's  charge,  for  Dolly's 
little  maiden  in  case  she  never  heard  of  me  again. 
Thanks  to  the  liberalty  of  my  mistress,  I  had  quite  a 
sum  of  ready  money — enough  to  keep  me  in  comfort 
for  some  time,  even  without  the  need  of  selling  my 
jewels. 

I  never  passed  such  a  time  of  suspense  as  during 
the  next  four  days.  I  dared  not  go  from  home  lest 
the  messenger  might  come  in  my  absence;  and  proba- 
bly that  was  as  well,  for  an  old  enemy,  even  that  very 


The  Duke-s  Ring.  257 

Betty  Wilkins  who  had  been  the  means  of  my  dis- 
grace about  the  red  flowers,  was  plotting  against  me. 
She  being  abroad  the  night  of  the  shower,  had  seen 
me  take  refuge  in  the  porch  of  the  haunted  cell,  not 
five  minutes,  as  she  alleged,  before  the  screams  and 
groans  were  heard  from  within  ;  and  she  even  declar- 
ed that  watching  and  listening,  she  had  heard  my  voice 
talking  with  the  evil  spirit  and  had  seen  me  afterward 
issue  from  the  ruin,  and  fly  across  the  fields  without 
touching  the  ground.  The  dread  of  witches  was  as 
rife  then  as  now,  though  people  in  general  strove  to 
conciliate  instead  of  persecuting  them.  Betty  and  her 
mother  had  themselves  no  good  name  in  this  respect, 
and  I  suppose  they  were  glad  to  have  a  story  to  tell 
of  some  one  else. 

I  heard  nothing  of  this  matter, however;  and  it  was 
just  as  well,  for  I  had  enough  to  bear  without  it.  At 
last  I  bethought  me  that  this  anxious  care  and  sus- 
pense was  a  distrusting  of  Provide-nce  and  a  direct 
disobedience  to  His  commands  who  hath  forbidden  us 
to  be  anxious  about  the  morrow.  I  carried  my  trouble 
to  the  right  place,  and  asking  for  grace  to  submit  my- 
self in  all  things  to  His  Holy  will,  I  strove  to  set  my- 
self with  all  diligence  about  my  usual  occupations;  a 
course  I  have  ever  found  the  best  under  the  like  cir- 
cumstances. So  I  heard  the  children's  lessons — I 
grieved  that  I  had  not  begun  them  before — fin- 
ished a  muffler  I  was  working  for  Dame  Yates,  and 
played  over  all  my  music  lessons  diligently,  wishing 
to  have  them  at  my  fingers'  ends,  seeing  I  did  not  know 
when  I  should  ever  touch  an  instrument  again. 

I  was  busied  thus,  one  evening  between  daylight  and 
dark.  It  was  now  the  latter  end  of  August,  and  the 


258  Loveday's  History. 

evenings  were  somewhat  chilly.  But  no  one  had  yet 
thought  of  lighting  afire.  Master  Yates  was  dozing  in 
his  great  chair,  and  his  wife  and  daughter  sat  together 
on  the  settee.  They  were  both  fond  of  music,  and  Dolly 
indeed,  was  herself  no  mean  performer  uppn  the  viol.* 
It  was  growing  quite  dark,  so  that  I  could  hardly  see  the 
keys,  and  Dame  Hannah  was  talking  of  lighting  the 
lamp,  when  I  heard  the  hasty  tramp  of  a  horse  outside  in 
the  court.  It  was  nothing  strange,  for  Master  Yates's 
hospitality  was  well  known;  and  many  a  traveler  stop- 
pea  with  us  for  the  night,but  that  odd  kind  of  prescience 
which  hath  accompanied  me  all  my  life,  told  me  in  a 
minute  that  this  was  no  belated  guest.  Master  Yatcs 
rose  and  went  to  the  door,  and  Dame  Hannah  hasted 
to  strike  a  light. 

In  a  moment  I  heard  the  former  returning,  and,  by 
the  light  of  the  lamp,  I  saw  behind  him  a  man  whose 
figure  I  seemed  dimly  to  remember.  He  came  straight 
up  to  me  with  scarce  a  passing  salutution  to  the  others, 
and  held  out  to  me  the  token  I  had  been  expecting,  the 
Duke's  own  seal-ring. 

"  Must  I  go  ?  "  I  asked,  involuntarily.  It  did  seem 
to  me  somehow  like  a  supernatural  summons  ;  as  if 
a  token  had  been  brought  me  from  another  world  to 
bid  me  be  gone. 

"  You  must,  and  instantly!  "  answered  the  messenger 
in  a  half  whisper.  "  Time  passes,  and  must  not  be 
spent  in  delay." 

I  flew  to  my  chamber,  and  was  quickly  arrayed  in 
such  a  riding  dress  as  country  dames  are  wont  to  wear 

*The  English  were  the  most  musical  people  in  Europe  in  those 
days,  and  a  man  was  hardly  accounted  educated  who  could 
not  sing  at  sight. 


The  Duke's  Ring.  259 

to  church  and  market,  and  which, with  Dame  Hannah's 
help,  I  had  prepared  for  this  very  occasion.  It  could 
not  have  been  ten  minutes  that  I  was  absent,  yet  when 
I  returned  I  found  my  conductor  seemingly  chafing 
at  even  that  short  delay. 

"  It  is  well !  "  said  he,  and  his  tone  was  to  me  as  great 
a  puzzle  as  his  figure  and  bearing.  His  face  I  could  not 
see,  as  he  kept  on  his  beaver,  and  his  cloak  was  wrap- 
ped about  his  chin.  "  Have  you  no  more  to  carry 
than  this?" 

"•No  more  !  "  I  answered. 

"  Come,  then,  let  us  begone." 

"  Oh,  Mistress  Loveday,  dare  you  trust  yourself  to 
him  ?  "  asked  Dolly,  in  a  terrified  whisper.  "  Are  you 
not  scared  ?  What  if  it  should  be  the  evil  one  him- 
self ?  " 

The  stranger  overheard  her  and  laughed — a  very 
short  laugh. 

"  Have  no  fears,  good  woman.  I  am  a  Christian 
like  yourself,  and  your  friend  is  safe  with  me.  Bid 
farewell  in  few  words,  mistress.  It  is  time  we  were 
away.  "  I  kissed  the  weeping  women,  and  shook 
Master  Gates  his  hand.  The  stranger  had  a  powerful 
black  horse  with  a  pillion  for  mine  accommodation. 
He  raised  me  in  his  arms  and  set  me  in  my  place, 
sprung  to  the  saddle  before  me,  and  bidding  me  hold 
fast  by  his  belt,  he  struck  his  spurs  into  his  horse's 
side,  and  off  we  went. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    OLD    HALL. 


O  here  was  I,  being  carried  off  at  a  breakneck 
speed  through  the  dim  moonlight  of  the 
August  night,  like  a  damsel  in  Romance  whom 
some  enchanter  has  trussed  up  and  borne  away  on  a  hip- 
pogriff.  My  conductor  spake  never  a  word,  and  I  was 
too  busy  keeping  my  seat  to  have  any  breath  to  spare 
for  questions,  had  I  dared  to  ask  them.  I  was  sure 
my  companion  was  some  one  I  had  Been,  but  where 
and  when  I  could  not  say.  He  had  the  Duke's  ring, 
which  none  but  a  trusted  servant  could  have  gotten 
into  his  hands,  and  at  all  events  I  could  do  nothing 
but  abide  the  result  of  mine  adventure. 

At  last,  after  we  had  ridden  more  than  an  hour  at 
this  headlong  pace,  and  I  was  far  from  any  place  I 
had  ever  seen  before,  my  guide  slackened  his  pace, 
and  turning  toward  me,  asked  how  I  fared. 

"  Why,  well  enough,  an'  I  had  but  a  little  breathing 
time,"  said  I  ;  "  but,  sir,  may  I  ask  your  name  ?  " 

"  So  you  do  not  know  me  ?  "  said  he,  "  and  yet  we 
are  not  strangers.  See  what  it  is  to  trust  the  memory 
of  a  young  lady." 

A  wild  notion  crossed  my  mind — too  wild,  I  thought, 
to  be  entertained  for  a  single  moment. 


The   Old  Hall  261 

"  At  least,"  said  I,  "  you  will  perhaps  have  the 
goodness  to  tell  me  whither  you  are  conveying  me  at 
such  a  rate." 

"  To  a  place  of  safety,  I  hope,"  he  answered. 
"Have  no  fears.  Did  not  the  Duke  himself  bid  you 
trust  the  messenger  who  brought  his  ring?  But  now 
we  are  to  pass  a  village,  and  you  must  be  silent. 
Wrap  your  cloak  well  about  you,  for  the  air  is  chill." 

I  obeyed,  and  we  rode  on  through  a  village  where 
every  one  seemed  to  be  abed  and  asleep,  save  at  the 
vicarage  near  the  church,  where  there  were  lights,  and 
from  which  proceeded  a  savory  smell  of  cooking,  and 
the  chorus  of  a  song,  which  was  certainly  not  one  of  the 
canticles  of  the  church. 

"  The  knaves  are  cooking  venison  !  "  muttered  my 
conductor.  "  This  gear  must  be  looked  to.  It  were 
as  good  a  deed  as  eating  to  give  them  a  fright." 

He  rode  close  to  the  window  as  he  spoke,  and, 
striking  thereon  with  his  riding  whip,  he  called  with 
a  sepulchral,  hollow  tone  :  "  Who  is  the  profane, 
drunken  priest  who  steals  the  Duke's  deer  ?  "  Then 
putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  he  galloped  on,  but  look- 
ing back,  I  saw  the  poor,  fat  vicar  gazing  after  us, 
his  very  cassock  seeming  to  bristle  with  alarm. 

My  conductor  said  never  a  word,  only  laughed  softly 
to  himself.  We  now  entered  a  deep  wood,  where  the 
path  was  none  of  the  best,  and  where  the  tired  horse 
made  more  than  one  stumble.  Muttering  that  this 
would  not  do,  his  master  bade  me  hold  fast  to  the 
saddle,  and,  jumping  off,  he  led  the  animal  by  the 
bridle.  We  went  on  in  this  way  for  half  an  hour, 
when  we  came  out  into  a  small  cleared  space,  or  lawn, 
and  I  saw  before  me  a  very  old  timbered  house,  of 


262  Loveday^s  History. 

dignity  enough  to  be  called  a  ball.  It  "was  growing  light 
by  this  time — just  that  dazzling,  bewildering  mingling 
of  dawn  and  moonlight  which  makes  even  accustomed 
objects  look  strange  and  unreal.  I  could  see  a 
cluster  of  chimneys,  from  one  of  which  smoke  was 
issuing.  A  light  shone  out  through  panes  of  colored 
glass,  and  a  moment  after  showed  by  its  clearer  and 
broader  beam  that  a  door  was  opened. 

"  They  are  up,  and  expecting  us,  you  see,"  said  my 
conductor,  and  again  that  wild  fancy  crossed  my 
mind.  As  we  drew  near  to  the  steps  which  led  up  to 
the  hall-door,  a  figure  appeared  upon  them,  and  in 
another  minute  I  was  elapsed  in  my  uncle's  arms  and 
led  by  him  into  the  hall,  where  a  fire  on  the  hearth 
gave  out  a  warmth  and  light  which  seemed  almost 
miraculous. 

"  I  have  brought  her  safely,  you  see,  good  Master 
Corbet  ! "  said  a  gay  voice.  "  Give  me  credit  for 
being  a  faithful  messenger." 

I  looked  around  in  utter  amazement,  as  my  first  idea 
returned  to  my  mind.  There  stood  the  Duke  himself, 
smiling  in  his  old  genial  fashion  at  my  surprise. 

"It  can  never  be  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  And  why  not  ?  You  are  a  reader  of  romances, 
Mistress  Loved  ay.  Tell  me,  is  it  not  the  duty  of  a 
true  knight  to  save  distressed  damsels  from  the  power 
of  wicked  enchanters  ?  " 

"  Your  Grace  is  another  King  Arthur,"  said  mine 
uncle. 

"  I  would  I  were,  and  had  Merlin  at  my  command," 
said  the  Duke.  "  I  would  soon  rid  this  land  of  some 
its  dragons." 

"  How  can  I  ever  repay  your  Grace  what  you  have 


The   Old  Hall.  263 

done  for  me  and  this  poor  child  ?  "  said  mine  uncle, 
bending  his  knee  as  he  kissed  the  hand  the  Duke  held 
out  to  him. 

"  Tut,  old  man.  I  love  an  adventure  old  as  I  am, 
as  well  as  when  I  was  a  wild  lad  of  twenty,  and  be- 
side, to  say  truth,  I  had  no  one  near  me  to  whom  I 
cared  to  trust  this  gear.  But  where  is  Dame  Joan  ?  " 

At  those  words,  an  exquisitely  neat  elderly  woman 
came  forward  into  the  light.  She  was  dressed  like 
any  country  dame,  but  still  there  was  about  her  an 
indescribable  air  of  refinement. 

"  I  bring  you  a  weary  damsel,  my  good  cousin," 
said  the  Duke,  addressing  her  with  marked  courtesy. 
"  Do  you  have  her  to  bed,  and  when  we  are  all  rested 
we  will  talk  over  our  plans." 

The  old  lady,  for  such  she  clearly  was,  courtesied, 
and  then  taking  my  hand  she  led  me  through  a  gal- 
lery and  up  a  stair  to  a  chamber  where  all  was  neat 
and  comfortable,  though  every  thing  in  the  room 
seemed  as  old  as  the  Wars  of  the  Roses  at  least. 

"  Here  you  may  rest  safely,"  said  she.  "  No  one 
ever  comes  to  this  house,  save  now  and  then  a  mes- 
senger from  my  good  master  and  yours.  I  guess 
from  all  I  see  that  you  are  a  sufferer  for  the  faith  ! " 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  hardly  know  myself,"  I  an- 
swered. "  I  have  suffered  nothing  worthy  of  the 
name  as  yet,  but  I  trust  I  should  have  grace  to  endure 
should  such  trouble  come  upon  me." 

"  Well,  you  are  young,  but  the  cross  comes  to  all, 
young  as  well  as  old.  There,  sweetheart,  get  thee  to 
bed,  and  rest  well." 

She  kissed  my  forehead  and  left  me.  Oh,  how  de- 
lightful was  that  clean,  well-lavendered  linen,  albeit 


264  Loveday^s  History. 

my  bed  was  somewhat  harder  than  I  had  been  used 
to.  But  young  bones  do  not  mind  such  trifles,  and  1 
was  soon  asleep,  and  did  not  stir  till  toward  ten 
o'clock.  I  sprang  up  and  dressed  myself  as  soon  as  I 
was  fairly  awake,  and  hurried  down  stairs  to  find 
mine  uncle  thoughtfully  pacing  up  and  down  the  hall. 

"  Where  is  his  Grace  ?  "  I  inquired,  so  soon  as  I  had 
asked  and  received  his  blessing. 

"  Up  and  away  three  hours  ago  !  "  was  the  answer. 
"  He  did  but  tarry  till  his  horse  was  fed  and  refreshed, 
and  then  took  his  way  to  a  hunting  lodge  he  hath  in 
these  parts.  Ho  saith  his  people  are  well  used  to  his 
freaks,  so  no  one  will  wonder  to  see  him." 

"Yes,  he  often  rides  alone,"  I  answered.  "I 
would  he  did  not,  for  his  life  is  too  precious  to  be 
risked.  And  what  are  we  to  do  now,  uncle " 

"Why,  nothing  just  at  present,  except  what  the 
partridge  does  when  the  hawk  is  abroad — keep  close 
and  wait.  His  Grace  assures  me  we  are  safe  in  this 
place,  which,  indeed,  is  lonely  enough,  if  that  were  all, 
and  bids  us  remain  here  till  the  heat  of  the  pursuit  is 
passed,  after  which  he  will  purvey  means  for  us  to  go 
abroad." 

"  Then  there  is  pursuit  ?  " 

"Ay,  hot  enough  just  now,  but  I  fancy  it  will 
soon  cool.  The  king  is  busy  about  his  new  marriage, 
and  he  seems,  with  all  reverence,  not  to  be  in  the 
same  mind  for  two  days  together." 

"  And  how  are  our  friends  the  Davis  family  ?  " 

"  Well,  so  far,  save  from  suspense  and  anxiety. 
They  hear  nothing  of  Margaret  and  her  husband,  and 
Andrew  hath  been  gone  longer  than  usual." 

"And  did  you  see  my  dear  mistress?  " 


The  Old  Hall 

"  Yes,  and  her  daughter.  I  wonder  not  at  your  re- 
gard for  them.  They  are  two  most  lovely  ladies." 

"  But  how  did  you  gain  audience  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  I  told  you,  I  had  some  pictures  to  sell,  and 
certain  East  country  trinkets  of  gold  and  ivory,  such 
as  the  Dutch  merchants  now  bring  from  China  and 
the  Indies.  I  had  also  a  token  for  the  Duke  from  a 
friend  abroad  which  I  had  promised  to  deliver,  and 
which  gained  me  a  private  interview.  All  the  rest 
was  easy.  But  tell  me,  had  you  any  notion  of  your 
conductor?" 

I  told  him  the  fancy  had  crossed  my  mind,  but  I 
had  dismissed  it  as  too  wild  to  be  entertained. 
x  "  He  seems  to  have  thought   of  the  adventure  as  a 
mere  frolic,"  said  mine  uncle.   "  I  do  not  think  the  idea 
of  any  personal  risk  ever  crossed  his  mind." 

"  If  it  had,  it  would  have  made  no  difference,"  said 
I.  "  Men  who  know  him  well,  say  he  is  an  utter 
stranger  to  fear.  I  would  he  were  not,  for  he  adven- 
tures his  life  needlessly  in  hunting  and  hawking,  and 
he  ought  to  be  careful,  if  only  for  his  family's  sake." 

The  old  lady  I  had  seen  the  night  before,  now  en- 
tered the  room  followed  by  a  woman  bearing  a  cloth 
and  trenchers,  who  proceeded  to  set  the  board.  I 
spoke  to  her,  but  she  only  shook  her  head. 

"  She  is  deaf  as  an  adder  !  "  said  Mrs.  Joan,  "  but 
she  is  a  good  creature,  and  having  dwelt  together  so 
long,  we  understand  each  other  very  well.  I  some- 
times marvel  what  will  become  of  the  other  when 
one  of  us  is  taken  away  ;  but  that  is  no  business  of 
mine." 

By  this  time  the  servant,  whom  Dame  Joan  called 
Martha,  had  a  goodly  dish  of  young  pigeons  and 


266  JLovectay's  History. 

bacon  smoking  upon  the  board,  with  sweet  brown 
bread  and  whatever  else  was  needed,  and  we  sat  down 
to  dinner,  while  old  Martha  waited  on  us  with  won- 
derful deftness  considering  her  infirmity.  After  the 
meal  was  over,  my  uncle  betook  himself  to  walking 
tip  and  down  the  garden  path,  for  there  was  a  small 
garden  behind  the  house  where  grew  many  neatly 
tended  beds  for  potage  and  physic,  and  not  a  few 
hardy  flowers.  I,  who  had  had  enough  of  exercise 
the  night  before  to  last  me  for  some  time,  sought  my 
room  to  look  for  my  knitting,  which  I  had  brought 
away  with  me.  I  found  Mrs.  Joan  arranging  my 
bed,  which  I  would  by  no  means  suffer,  but  took  the 
matter  out  of  her  hands.  I  did  never  like  to  be 
waited  upon  by  an  old  person.  She  smiled  and  acqui- 
esced. 

"  It  is  long  since  I  have  seen  a  young  face  ! "  said 
she,  sighing,  methought,  as  she  spoke.  "  If  my  own 
Loveday  had  lived,  I  believe  she  would  have  been 
like  you.  But  the  dear  babe  hath  long  been  in  a  bet- 
ter place." 

"  I  often  think  there  is,  if  not  a  bright,  yet  a  peace- 
ful side  to  the  death  of  little  children,"  I  ventured 
to  say.  "  One  feels  so  safe  about  them.  The  most 
promising  child  who  lives  to  grow  up  may  change  for 
the  worse.  But  once  in  the  Saviour's  arms,  there  is 
no  room  for  sin  or  falling.  All  is  well  forevermore." 

"  That  is  true,  but  yet  the  mother's  arms  are  not  less 
sadly  empty,  and  none  but  God  knows  the  hunger  of 
her  heart !  "  said  she  sighing.  "  But  now  tell  me  of 
your  life  at  Dartford.  Were  you  happy  there  after 
you  were  professed  ?  " 

"  I  was  never   professed,"  said  I,  rather  surprised, 


The  Old  Hatt.  26? 

for  I  could  not  remember  speaking  of  the  place.  "  By 
Sir  Ed  ward's  will  my  dowry  was  forfeit  if  I  took  the 
veil  before  I  was  twenty-one  at  the  least,  and  I  lacked 
some  years  of  that  when  the  convent  was  broken  up. 
I  dare  say  I  should  have  bfcen  professed  at  last,  for  I 
had  learned  to  look  upon  the  house  as  home,  and  was 
well  enough  content  on  the  whole,  though  I  do  not 
think  I  had  any  special  vocation.  But  were  you  ever 
at  Dartford,  madam  ?  " 

"  Yes,  once  in  my  young  days,"  she  answered, 
stooping  to  pick  up  a  needle. 

"  I  suppose  that  was  long  before  my  time,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  Am  I  not  old  enough  to  be 
your  mother,  child  ?  " 

I  thought  my  grandmother  would  have  been  nearer 
the  mark,  but,  after  all,  I  was  not  so  sure.  Mrs.  Joan's 
face  was  pale  and  wrinkled,  and  her  hair  was  snowy 
white,  but  her  movements  were  quick  and  decided, 
and  her  step  firm.  Only  her  voice  was  tremulous  and 
her  head  had  an  odd  shake — not  trembling  all  the 
time,  but  now  and  then  moving  slowly  from  side  to 
side,  as  though  in  stern  protest  against  some  evil  she 
could  not  help. 

At  all  events  she  was  pleasant  company.  I  taught 
her  to  knit,  and  she  showed  me  some  wonderful  de- 
vices in  embroidery  and  netting.  We  sometimes 
walked  together  in  the  wood  round  the  house.  I  often 
read  to  her,  for  her  eyes  were  beginning  to  fail,  and 
told  her  tales  of  my  life  at  Dartford,  to  which  she 
seemed  to  listen  with  interest,  though  she  seldom 
made  any  remark.  I  think  my  uncle  chafed  far  more 
than  I  did  at  our  enforced  retreat.  As  I  have  said  be- 
fore, he  had  a  choleric  temper,  though  age  and  stern 


268  Loveday's  History. 

self-discipline  had  done  much  to  tame  it.  But  he 
longed  to  be  once  more  among  men  and  at  his  busi- 
ness. I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  gave  way  to  im- 
patience or  frctf ulness,  but  the  suspense  and  delay 
were  very  hard  on  him,  and  I  could  not  help  telling 
him  one  day  how  much  better  off  he  would  be  if  he 
could  only  knit. 

"  That  is  true,"  said  he  seriously.  "  If  only  I  had 
something  to  do.  I  suppose  there  are  no  books  in 
the  house." 

"  I  will  ask  Mistress  Joan,"  said  I ;  which  accordingly 
I  did,  and  was  conducted  to  a  little  room  on  the  second 
floor,  which  I  had  never  entered.  Mistress  Joan  un- 
locked the  door,  and  showed  me  a  small  apartment  in 
which  were  several  cases  of  books — dusty,  indeed, 
but  in  fair  preservation. 

"  I  have  been  meaning  to  show  you  this  room  ever 
since  you  came  here,  and  now  is  as  good  a  time  as  any. 
There  is  a  secret  here  which  may  concern  you."  So 
saying  she  gave  a  push  to  one  of  the  presses  which 
seemed  fast  to  the  wall.  It  slipped  aside  the  width 
of  a  foot  and  showed  a  dark  space  behind  it. 

"There  is  a  staircase  in  there  which  leads  down  to 
the  very  foundations  of  the  house,"  said  she.  "  By 
it  you  may  at  any  time  reach  a  place  of  concealment 
which  will  defy  all  your  enemies  to  find  you." 

She  showed  me  how  to  open  and  close  the  spring 
door,  and  then  making  all  secure,  she  bade  me  keep 
the  key  till  I  went  away,  and  take  what  books  I  could. 
I  found  a  Latin  Livy  in  very  fair  print,  and  some  other 
volumes,  which  I  carried  to  my  uncle  after  I  had  de- 
posited the  key  in  a  secure  place.  I  found  him  read- 
ing a  letter  which  a  messenger  had  just  brought.  The 


The  Old  Hall  269 

man  was  waiting  in  the  hall,  and  I  recognized  in  him 
one  of  his  Grace  of  Suffolk's  most  trusted  servants. 

"News,  my  child,"  said  my  uncle.  "This  very 
night  we  are  to  make  for  a  small  seaport" — which  he 
named  but  I  have  forgotten — "  where  a  vessel  will  be 
awaiting  to  carry  us  to  Holland.  Put  up  what  things 
are  absolutely  needful  in  the  smallest  compass  that 
you  may  be  ready  at  any  moment." 

This  was  news,  indeed.  I  forgot  all  about  my  books 
and  every  thing  else,  but  the  prospect  of  seeing  my 
aunt  and  cousins  once  more.  I  flew  to  my  room  and 
soon  had  all  my  preparations  made.  I  was  just  finish- 
ing my  bundles  when  Mistress  Joan  entered. 

"  So  I  am  to  lose  you,  dear  child,"  said  she,  sadly, 
but  in  that  inexpressible  tone  of  resignation  which 
shows  that  sorrow  has  become  a  part  of  one's  very 
nature.  "  Oh,  well.  It  will  not  be  long,  and  I  am 
glad  to  have  seen  you  again,  though  you  have  never 
known  me  all  these  days  that  we  have  been  to- 
gether." 

"  Dear  mother,  how  could  I  know  you  ?  "  I  asked  in 
amazement.  "  I  never  saw  you  before." 

"  Are  you  sure?"  she  asked,  looking  at  me  with  a 
smile.  I  stared  at  her,  and  somehow  the  old  face  did 
seem  to  drop  like  a  mask,  and  I  saw  behind  it  the  face 
of  Sister  Denys — of  Sister  Denys  who  had  gone  to 
Dartford  in  my  company,  and  had  disappeared  so  sud- 
denly and  strangely." 

"  It  is  even  so,  child,"  said  she,  as  I  called  her  by 
name,  throwing  my  arms  around  her  neck.  "  Oh, 
Loveday,  you  can  never  know  how  I  have  longed  to 
speak  to"  you  when  I  have  had  a  glimpse  of  you  from 
the  high  grated  window  of  my  cell." 


270  Lovedaifs  History. 

"But  where — but  how  ?"  Tasked,  too  all  amazed  to 
ask  a  reasonable  question. 

"  Sit  down  awhile  and  I  will  tell  you  my  story," 
said  she.  We  did  sit  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  with 
her  arms  still  about  me,  she  gave  me  the  outline  of 
her  tale — as  strange  and  sad  as  ever  I  heard.  She 
had  been  betrothed  to  a  far-away  kinsman,  with  the 
full  consent  of  her  father.  Her  mother  had  died  when 
she  was  young.  But  some  family  quarrel  arising,  she 
was  forbid  ever  to  see  or  speak  with  her  lover  more, 
and  commanded  to  marry  another  person.  This  last 
she  flatly  refused  to  do,  and  persisting  in  her  refusal, 
she  was  placed  in  the  convent  at  Dartford.  She  would 
not  take  the  veil,  however,  till  she  was  sent  a  note  as 
from  her  lover,  saying  that  he  was  married.  Then  she 
gave  way. 

"  But  it  was  a  wicked  falsehood  whoever  penned 
it,"  said  Denys.  "  Loveday,  do  you  remember  the 
lame  gardener  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  well.     Why  ?  " 

The  rest  was  soon  told.  Denys's  bridegroom  had 
found  her  out  at  last,  and  carried  her  off  to  some  lonely 
house,  she  did  not  rightly  know  where,  first  marrying 
her  before  a  village  priest.  Here  they  lived  for  a  few 
— a  very  few — happy  weeks,  meaning  as  soon  as  the 
heat  of  pursuit  was  over  to  go  abroad.  But  alas, 
one  day  the  poor  man  ventured  forth  too  far,  was 
seen,  tracked,  and  their  concealment  found  out.  The 
poor  young  man  was  killed  before  his  wife's  eyes,  and 
Denys  was  carried  back  to  her  convent. 

"I  expected  nothing  but  the  walled  up  cell,  and 
the  '  part  in  peace,'  "  continued  Denys,  "  bu£  I  did  not 
care  ;  I  knew  it  would  be  soon  over  at  the  worst.  But 


The  Old  Hall.  271 

it  was  not  to  be.  Loveday,  do  you  remember  a  range 
of  rooms  which  opened  back  from  the  Mother 
Superior's  room — perhaps  you  never  saw  them." 

"  Never  till  the  day  I  left  the  house." 

"  In  one  of  those  rooms  I  found  myself  when  I  re- 
covered my  senses,  and  there  I  lived  for  ten  years, 
never  seeing  a  face  till  my  babe  was  born — my  little 
Loveday.  They  were  kind  to  me  then,  and  my  child 
lived  and  seemed  like  to  thrive.  But  when  she  was  a 
month  old,  she  drooped  and  died  all  in  one  day  like  a 
broken  flower.  It  was  as  well.  Thank  Heaven  I  can 
now  say  so.  They  had  given  her  some  of  their  saints' 
names,  but  I  called  her  Loveday  after  you,  child,  for 
I  always  loved  you.  She  was  a  sweet  little  thing, 
the  picture  of  her  father.  Oh  how  empty  were  my 
arms  and  heart  for  many  a  long  day  !  " 

I  was  weeping  too  much  to  speak  as  that  poor 
mother  bent  her  head  and  kissed  me. 

"  I  know  not  how  the  time  passed  after  that  for  a 
long  while.  I  took  no  note  of  it,  but  at  last  one 
morning  I  waked  from  a  blessed  dream  of  my  hus- 
band and  child  in  Paradise,  and,  looking  up  at  the 
high  grated  lattice,  I  saw  the  sun  shining.  I  had  a 
joint  stool  and  table,  and  with  their  help  I  climbed  up 
and  looked  upon  the  world  once  more.  The  sisters 
were  walking  in  the  orchard,  and  I  could  see  the  very 
tree  where  Harry  made  himself  known  to  me.  The 
fountains  of  the  deep  were  broken  up  then,  which  had 
been  fast  scaled  in  all  my  trouble.  I  had  not  shed  a 
tear  before,  but  now  they  came  in  a  flood,  and  with 
them  some  of  the  bitterness  of  my  grief  seemed  to 
pass  away,  and  the  cloud  lifted  from  my  mind  so  I 
could  understand  and  remember.  When  the  mother 


272  Lov  eddy's  History. 

came  with  my  meals  I  made  bold  to  ask  her  for  some 
work.  She  seemed  pleased — she  was  always  kind  in 
her  ways,  though  she  rarely  spoke  to  me — and  from 
that  day  I  had  plenty  to  do. 

"  One  day  Mother  Joanna  brought  me  a  heavier 
basket  than  usual,  and  came  into  the  cell  instead  of 
passing  it  through  the  tour.  I  rose  as  she  entered, 
but  she  bade  me  sit  down  again. 

" '  Denys  ! '  said  she,  after  a  little  silence,  '  do  you 
know  what  is  the  usual  fate  of  a  nun  who  breaks  her 
convent  vows  ? ' 

"I  bowed,  thinking  with  a  kind  of  dull  horror  of  all 
I  had  heard  of  such  things. 

" '  Yours  would  have  been  either  the  closed  vault  or 
a  lifelong  confinement  in  darkness.  We  have  been 
lenient  to  you — perhaps  more  so  than  we  had  any 
right  to  be — and  now,'  she  paused. 

"  <  Am  I  to  be  set  at  liberty  ? '  I  asked. 

"  '  Nay,  I  said  not  so.' 

"  An  hour  before  I  should  have  said  I  did  not  care 
enough  for  life  to  escape  if  the  door  was  left  open, 
but  now  a  wild,  overmastering  desire  for  liberty  took 
possession  of  me.  I  threw  myself  at  the  mother's  feet 
and  begged  her  to  let  me  go,  were  it  to  beg  my  bread 
or  serve  as  household  drudge  in  the  meanest  farm- 
house. 

"  '  Hush,  hush  ! '  said  she.  *  You  will  spoil  all  by 
this  vehemence.  You  must  do  exactly  as  you  are  bid 
and  all  will  be  well,  at  last.  Dress  yourself  in  the 
clothes  you  will  find  in  this  basket,  and  be  ready  when 
the  bell  rings  for  the  midnight  service.' 

"  '  Where  am  I  to  go  ?'  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"  ( To  a  safe  asylum  which  has  been  found  for  you, 


The   Old  HaU.  273 

and  where  you  may  spend  the  rest  of  your  days  in 
penitence  and  prayer.' 

"  I  thought  I  knew  what  that  meant  well  enough,  but 
I  did  not  care.  At  midnight  I  was  taken  from  my 
prison  blindfolded,  and  carried  down  stairs  and  into 
the  fresh  air.  I  was  placed  in  a  litter  and  traveled 
for  two  days,  I  think,  stopping  now  and  then  in  some 
secluded  place  for  a  little  rest  and  refreshment.  On 
the  third  day  there  was  an  unexpected  end  put  to  my 
journey.  We  were  attacked  by  outlaws.  My  two 
conductors  fled,  as  I  guessed,  without  exchanging 
many  blows.  With  many  jests,  but  not  unkindly,  the 
robbers  drew  me  out  of  my  litter.  I  was  so  stiff  with 
sitting  I  could  hardly  stand  upright. 

"  *  Why,  'tis  a  poor  feeble  old  woman  ! '  said  the 
leader  of  the  gang.  '  Hey,  what !  Cannot  you 
walk  ? '  he  asked,  as  I  tried  to  take  a  step. 

" '  My  feet  are  tied  ! '  I  managed  to  say,  and  so  they 
had  been,  whether  by  command  to  my  attendants  or 
to  save  themselves  trouble,  I  do  not  know. 

"  s  And  so  they  are,'  said  another  man,  with  indig- 
nation. <  The  brutes,  to  use  an  old  white-headed 
woman  like  that.  Where  were  they  taking  you,  good 
mother  ? ' 

"  '  I  do  not  know,'  I  answered.  *  They  said  to  a 
safe  asylum — to  some  cell  or  convent,  I  suppose — 
but  I  promised  not  to  tell,'  I  added.  « Please  do  not 
heed  my  words,  I  am  something  dazed.' 

"  The  men  glanced  at  each  other  and  whispered  to- 
gether. Then  the  man  who  seemed  to  be  the  leader 
asked  me  where  I  wished  to  go. 

"  '  I  know  not,'  I  answered.  *  I  have  not  a  friend 
on  earth.' 


274  Loveday's  History. 

"  *  'Tis  a  piteous  case,'  said  tbe  outlaw.  Then,  after 
a  little  more  conference,  two  of  tbe  men  took  me  be- 
tween them  and  led  me  into  tbe  thicket,  where  I  was 
made  to  sit  down  and  eat.  At  night,  the  man  in 
charge  of  me  made  me  a  kind  of  bed  of  leaves,  and 
bade  me  lie  down  and  sleep  without  fear. 

"  Curiously  enough,  I  was  not  at  all  afraid,  and  did 
as  I  was  bid  as  calmly  as  if  I  had  been  in  the  convent. 
In  the  first  gray  of  the  morning,  I  was  again  blind- 
folded and  led  for  some  distance  without  a  word  being 
said  on  either  side.  Finally  I  was  bade  to  sit  down. 

"'You  must  remain  here  without  uncovering  your 
eyes  till  you  hear  the  church  clock  strike  five,'  said 
my  conductor.  'You  will  find  yourself  not  far  from 
a  house,  where  they  will,  no  doubt,  feed  and  shelter 
you.  Obey  and  no  harm  will  befall  you,  if  you  keep 
your  own  counsel.' 

"  ( I  would  I  had  something  wherewith  to  reward 
your  kindness,'  said  I. 

"  '  Nay,  we  want  no  reward  from  such  as  you,'  an- 
swered the  man.  '  You  are  not  our  game.  Fare- 
well, good  mother,  and  good  luck  to  you.' 

"  I  heard  the  outlaws'  retreating  steps,  and  then  all 
was  still,  save  for  the  singing  of  the  birds  and  the 
other  woodland  noises.  I  waited  patiently  till  I  heard 
a  distant  clock  strike  five.  Then  I  unbound  my  eyes 
and  looked  about  me. 

"  I  found  myself  in  a  thick  wood  like  a  neglected 
park.  There  was  a  narrow  vista  through  the  trees, 
at  the  end  of  which  I  saw  an  old  building  from  one 
chimney  of  which  smoke  was  rising,  showing  that  it 
was  inhabited,  and  thither  I  bent  my  way.  I  found 
nobody  but  one  old  woman — poor  Martha — and  as 


The   Old  Hall.  275 

she  was  not  so  deaf  as  she  is  now,  I  made  her  under- 
stand so  much  as  I  thought  fit  to  tell  her  :  namely, 
that  I  had  been  traveling,  had  lost  my  way,  and  been 
out  all  night,  and  I  prayed  her  to  give  me  hospitality. 

" '  Ay,  ay  ! '  said  she,  *  meat  and  drink  you  shall 
have,  and  as  to  lodging,  we  will  see  what  my  master 
says.  He  is  here  now,  my  good  dame  ?  ' 

"  '  Who  is  your  master  ? '  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"  *  Why,  his  Grace  of  Suffolk,  no  less,'  was  the  an- 
swer. *  This  tumble  down  old  house  belongs  to  him, 
and  it  pleases  him  to  come  hither  now  and  then  for  a 
day's  sport.' 

"  I  had  gathered  my  wits  together  by  the  time  I  had 
rested  and  eaten  my  breakfast,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  what  to  do.  I  knew  my  husband  had  been  a 
far-away  kinsman  of  the  Brandons,  and  I  determined 
to  tell  his  Grace  the  whole  story,  and  to  throw  myself 
on  his  mercy.  I  did  so.  He  heard  me  with  many 
expressions  of  pity  and  kindness. 

"  *  Your  husband  was  a  gallant  young  man,'  said  he. 
'  I  knew  him  well,  but  knew  not  what  had  become  of 
him.  I  will  consider  your  case  and  see  what  shall  be 
best  for  you.' 

"The  next  day  as  he  was  going  away,  he  called 
me. 

"  *  I  can  think  of  no  better  counsel  than  for  you  to 
remain  here  and  keep  close,'  said  he.  *  Nobody  ever 
comes  hither  but  myself  or  some  trusted  servant. 
This  old  hall  hath  sheltered  the  wanderer  before  now. 
Bide  you  here,  then,  and  go  not  forth — not  even  to 
church  at  present.  Your  own  family  doubtless  think 
you  dead,  and  the  convent  authorities  are  too  full  of 
their  own  troubles  just  now  to  make  much  search  for 


276  Loveday^s  History. 

you,  but  yet  it  is  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  How  it 
comes  that  you  are  alive,  I  cannot  guess.' 

"  '  They  were  not  unkind  to  me  beyond  keeping  me 
confined,'  said  I.  *  I  pray,  your  Grace,  what  year  is 
this?' 

He  told  me. 

"  *  Then  I  have  been  in  prison  nine  years,'  I  said, 
<  and  in  that  time  I  have  not  seen  a  human  face  more 
than  three  times,  save  when  I  was  ill.' 

"  *  Poor  thing,  no  wonder  you  arc  so  sadly  aged,'  he 
said,  '  but  there  will  be  an  end  of  all  that  soon,  and 
full  time  it  was  so.'  " 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  came  here  ?  "  I  asked,  as 
she  paused. 

"  Two  years  come  next  spring." 

"  Then  you  must  have  been  sent  away  just  before 
the  convent  was  broken  up." 

"  'Tis  likely  they  found  it  convenient  to  get  rid  of 
me,"  she  returned,  a  little  bitterly.  "  But  I  bear  them 
no  malice.  I  have  been  pardoned  too  much  myself 
not  to  forgive  others.  I  had  not  said  even  the  form 
of  a  prayer  for  years  before  I  came  here.  I  had  lost 
all  faith  in  the  old  religion,  and  I  knew  no  other. 
But  one  day  looking  for  something  wherewith  to 
divert  myself,  I  found  a  Latin  Bible.  I  read  and 
read,  and  by  degrees  the  light  came  to  me,  and  the 
truth  made  me  free." 

"  And  what  then,  dear  sister  ?  " 

"  There  is  little  more  to  tell,"  she  answered.  "  His 
Grace  was  good  enough  to  call  me  cousin  before 
Martha,  and  bade  her  treat  me  with  all  respect.  She 
is  a  good,  faithful  creature,  and  I  love  her  as  a  sister. 
She  grows  infirm,  and  I  fear  may  not  last  long.  But 


The   Old  Hall.  277 

I  am  old,  too,"  she  added,  with  a  smile.  "  Loveday, 
the  first  time  I  looked  into  a  mirror,  I  started 
back  in  affright.  I  did  not  know  my  own  face." 

I  would  have  liked  to  ask  her  a  hundred  questions, 
but  there  was  no  more  time.  It  was  drawing  to- 
ward sunset,  and  I  had  been  told  to  be  ready  by 
nightfall.  Denys  helped  me  to  finish  my  packing  and 
to  arrange  securely  the  money  and  jewels  I  had  about 
me,  and  I  was  soon  all  ready.  As  soon  as  it  was 
dark,  the  same  messenger  who  had  brought  the 
litter,  appeared  with  two  horses,  and  we  took  a  last 
farewell  of  our  woodland  Patmos.  Denys  kissed  and 
blessed  me  at  parting. 

"  We  shall  never  meet  again,  but  I  am  most  thank- 
ful to  have  seen  your  face  once  more,"  said  she.  "  You 
were  my  first  comforter,  little  Loveday,  and  if  my 
prayers  can  call  down  blessings  you  will  not  want 
them.  Farewell,  dear,  precious  child,  till  we  meet  in 
the  Paradise  above." 

I  had  to  go  at  last.  As  we  rode  down  the  over- 
grown avenue  I  looked  backed  and  saw  her  standing 
in  the  door.  She  waved  her  hand,  and  then  the  trees 
closed  in,  and  I  never  saw  her  again. 

I  heard  afterward  that  she  died,  after  all,  before  poor 
old  Martha.  But  she  was  ready  to  go,  and  it  was  a 
blessed  release.  How  little  I  guessed,  when  I  used  to 
look  at  our  house  at  Dartford  and  speculate  as  to  the 
rooms  I  was  not  allowed  to  enter,  that  my  old 
friend  and  teacher  was  pining  away  her  young  life  in 
one  of  them.  They  meant  it  for  mercy,  and  I  dare 
say  ran  a  great  risk  in  keeping  her  where  they  did, 
but  it  was  a  doubtful  mercy,  after  all. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  EXILED,  AND    YET    AT    HOME." 

E  rode  all  that  night  and  in  the  morning  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  small  seaport  town,  or 
rather  fishing  village,  for  it  was  little  more. 
There  was  but  scant  time  for  me  to  observe  it.  There 
was  a  low-lying  fog,  and  we  could  not  even  see  the 
edge  of  the  water  in  the  dull  twilight.  A  breeze 
sprung  up  with  the  sun,  however,  the  fog  lifted  like  a 
curtain,  and  showed  a  tolerably-sized  vessel  lying  off 
shore. 

"  There  she  is,  thank  Heaven  !  "  said  our  conductor, 
"  but  we  must  waste  no  time.  It  will  not  do  to  lose 
this  breeze." 

We  rode  straight  to  the  water's  edge,  where  our 
conductor  made  a  signal.  A  boat  put  off  from  the 
ship,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  found  ourselves  on 
board. 

What  a  strange,  desolate  thing  it  seemed  to  watch 
the  shore  of  England  fading  away,  and  think  that  in 
all  likelihood  I  should  never  see  it  again.  In  truth,  we 
came  near  to  never  seeing  any  shore  again,  for  the 
breeze  increased  to  a  gale,  and  for  some  time  we  were 
in  a  good  deal  of  danger.  But  our  ship  was  stout, 
and  the  Dutch  are  bold  and  skillful  sailors,  and  so  it 


"  Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home."  279 

came  to  pass  that  on  the  fifth  morning  after  leaving 
England  I  opened  my  eyes,  and,  looking  at  the  tiny 
window,  I  caught  sight  of  a  low-lying  bit  of  green.  I 
was  not  many  minutes  in  arranging  my  dress  and 
joining  my  uncle  on  deck.  What  a  strange  scene  it 
was  !  We  were  sailing  on  what  seemed  a  great  inland 
lake,  shifting  our  course  every  five  minutes.  All 
about,  now  near  at  hand,  now  on  the  far  horizon, 
were  long  lines  of  high  green  banks,  over  which 
peeped,  now  and  then,  the  top  of  a  tree,  or  a  fantas- 
tical church  steeple,  with  a  fish-shaped  weather-vane. 
The  sky  was  clear,  and  a  fresh,  pleasant  breeze  was 
blowing  ;  but  the  water  was  still  rough  from  last 
night's  storm,  and  seemed,  even  to  my  inexperienced 
eye,  to  be  full  of  currents  and  eddies.  It  was  the 
oddest  landscape,  if  landscape  it  could  bu  called,  that  I 
had  ever  seen,  and  seemed  as  if  it  might  have  come 
up  from  Neptune's  kingdom,  like  a  whale,  to  have  a 
breath  of  fresh  air  and  a  look  at  the  world,  and  might 
be  expected  to  dive  again  at  any  moment.  And^  in- 
deed, it  hath  a  trick  of  diving  at  times  with  unrever- 
ent  suddenness.  More  than  once  while  I  lived  there 
we  heard  of  a  whole  town  or  district  disappearing  in 
the  night,  leaving  no  trace  to  show  where  it  had  been. 

"  What  is  this,  uncle  ?"  I  asked. 

"  This  is  Holland,  my  niece — Holland,  our  asylum, 
and  that  of  many  another  wanderer.  These  are  the 
Isles  of  Zealand,  and  we  shall  soon  be  at  home." 

My  uncle  spoke  in  a  tone  of  enthusiasm  which  I 
could  not  understand. 

"  And  what  are  these  great  green  banks  which  we 
see  on  every  side  ?  Are  they  ramparts  ?  " 

"  Ay,    child,    ramparts    against    the    Dutchman's 


280  Loveday^s  History. 

greatest  foe  and  best  friend,  the  sea.  But  for  them 
all  yonder  fertile  fields  would  be  under  water,  or  at 
least  but  stagnant  morasses,  the  haunts  of  wild  fowl." 

"  The  enemy  seems  to  have  had  the  best  of  it 
yonder  !  "  said  I,  pointing  to  a  place  where  innumer- 
able active  little  figures  were  running  to  and  fro,  like 
ants  in  a  disturbed  ant-hill. 

"  Yes,  I  doubt  we  shall  hear  of  mischief,"  said  the 
captain,  who  could  speak  English  very  well.  "  Such 
a  gale  as  we  have  had  makes  wild  work  with  the 
dykes,  though  'twas  not  as  bad  as  though  it  had 
blown  from  another  quarter." 

"  But  who  has  built  all  these*  great  arks  ?  "  I  ven- 
tured to  ask,  looking  with  amazement  at  the  high 
banks  and  heavy  stone-work,  which  I  could  now  see 
quite  plainly. 

"  The  Hollanders  and  Zealanders  themselves,  young 
lady  !  "  Answered  the  captain,  with  justifiable  pride. 
"  For  three  hundred  years  and  more,  we  have 
been  conquering  this  country  from  the  sea.  Some  time 
or  other  we  may  have  to  conquer  it  again  from 
another  power,  who  knows  ?  " 

Who  knew,  indeed  !  Only,  a  few  weeks  ago  I  heard 
that  in  their  contest  for  liberty  with  the  cruel  Span- 
iards the  Hollanders  had  cut  these  same  dykes,  and  let 
in  the  salt  sea  on  their  grand  farms  and  beautiful 
towns.  Any  one  who  has  ever  lived  in  Holland  will 
understand  what  must  have  been  their  zeal  for  liberty 
to  make  them  willing  to  let  so  much  dirt  into  their 
houses.  I  hope  with  all  my  heart  they  may  succeed, 
for  if  any  people  on  earth  have  the  right  to  their  own 
country  it  is  the  Dutch. 

"  When  shall  we  be  at  Rotterdam  ?  "  asked  my  uncle. 


"  Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home."  281 

"  Why,  that  is  more  than  I  can  tell,"  was  the  an- 
swer, "  but  if  all  goes  well,  I  hope  we  shall  find  our- 
selves at  the  Boomtzees  to-morrow  morning.  You 
know,  my  friend,  this  is  not  a  channel  to  be  walked 
over  blindfold." 

I  could  not  help  seeing  that  for  myself  as  I  observed 
how  carefully  our  good  captain  watched  the  course 
of  the  vessel  and  how  often  he  heaved  the  lead.  I  un- 
derstood that  the  gale  by  disturbing  the  shifting  sand 
and  sandbanks  had  made  the  navigation  more  trouble- 
some than  usual.  In  fact,  we  were  aground  once,  but 
our  commander's  seamanship  and  the  rising  tide  soon 
took  us  off.  At  every  possible  interval,  the  men  were 
busy  cleaning  and  scraping,  varnishing  and  painting, 
so  that  the  ship  began  to  assume  quite  a  holiday  ap- 
pearance. 

I  went  to  bed  at  last,  but  not  to  sleep,  except  by  fits 
and  snatches,  awakened  every  moment  bythe  welcome 
sounds  of  cocks  crowing,  cattle  lowing,  and  the  lovely 
music  of  church  bells  playing  tunes  before  they  struck 
the  hour.  At  last  weariness  conquered  and  I  fell  into 
a  deep,  sleep,  from  which  I  was  waked  by  my  uncle's 
voice. 

"  Come,  my  maid.  Here  we  are  at  home.  Hasten 
your  preparations  that  we  may  go  ashore." 

It  did  not  seem  much  like  home  to  me  as  I  followed 
my  uncle  along  the  quay,  having  a  line  of  ships  on  one 
side  and  a  row  of  fine  painted  warehouses,  and  dwell- 
ings on  the  other.  I  felt  more  like  somebody  in  a  fan- 
tastic dream.  Here  was  a  warehouse  where  great 
foreign  looking  bales  were  being  carried  in,  while 
in  the  window  stood  pots  of  flowers  behind  the 
clear  glass.  There,  we  met  a  group  of  what  were  evi- 


282  Lovedatfs  History. 

dently  country  women,  who  yet  wore  bands  and  head- 
dresses of  gold  and  silver,  with  great  gold  earrings 
dangling  over  their  cheeks  and  bosoms.  And 
again,  two  maid  servants  in  the  same  odd  attire  were 
cleaning  the  outside  of  a  house,  yea,  scrubbing  the 
very  bricks,  with  as  much  zeal  and  apparent  pleasure 
as  my  Lady  Frances  would  have  shown  at  her  music. 
And  then  the  language!  I  could  not  understand  it, 
and  yet  it  sounded  as  if  I  ought  to  know  every  word. 
Presently  we  turned  off  the  quay,  theBoomtzeesasthey 
call  it,  and  went  through  two  or  three  narrow  streets, 
and  over  more  bridges  than  I  ever  counted  afterward. 
At  last  we  carne  into  a  kind  of  little  place  or  square 
where  grass  was  growing,  and  flowers  blooming  in 
little  parterres  like  the  figures  in  a  Persian  rug. 
This  square  was  surrounded  by  neat  houses,  as  fan- 
tastically decorated  as  those  we  had  seen  before,  and 
looking  as  if  no  dust  or  smoke  had  ever  dared  to 
come  near  them.  At  the  largest  and  handsomest  of 
these  my  uncle  stopped. 

"  This  is  our  house, "  said  he.  "  Pray  God  we  find 
all  well."  He  knocked  as  he  spoke,  but  had  hardly 
withdrawn  his  hand  from  the  kriocker,  when  a  light 
foot  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  Avice,  looking  not 
at  all  like  a  heart-broken  widow,  threw  herself  into 
her  father's  arms,  and  drew  him  into  the  house.  I 
followed,  feeling  somehow  inexpressibly  forlorn  and 
lonely. 

"Why  how  is  this  ?"  asked  my  uncle,  holding  Avice 
off  and  looking  at  her.  "  Methinks  my  drooping 
flower  is  blooming  again." 

"  Ay,  and  with  good  reason,"  answered  Avice.  "Af- 
ter all  our  f ears,Garrett  has  come  home  safe  and  sound, 


"Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home*  283 

and  not  much  the  worse  for  his  captivity  among  the 
Moors." 

"Heaven  be  praised!  But,  daughter,  you  do  not 
speak  to  your  guest.  Do  you  not  know  her  ?  " 

Avice  turned — I  verily  believe  she  had  taken  no  note 
of  me  before — and  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  with  a 
gaze  so  like  one  of  her  old  innocent  looks  of  wonder, 
that  I  could  not  forbear  smiling. 

"  Loveday,  it  is  Loveday  ! "  she  exclaimed,  and  I 
had  no  cause  to  find  fault  with  my  welcome.  I  was 
led  up  stairs  all  in  a  moment,  and  into  a  parlor  where 
sat  my  Aunt  Holland,  looking  not  so  much  older  than 
when  I  saw  her  last.  What  a  meeting  it  was.  How 
we  women  talked  and  laughed  and  cried,  and  asked 
endless  questions  and  staid  for  no  answers.  How  old 
Sambo,  his  wool  whiter  than  any  sheep's,  kissed  my 
hand  and  blubbered  and  giggled,  all  in  a  breath,  and 
afterward  danced  a  dance  of  triumph  out  in  the  court- 
yard. By  and  by  Avice  would  lead  me  to  my  room 
to  refresh  myself  with  a  change  of  dress  before  eat- 
ing. 

I  declare,  when  I  was  left  alone  in  the  room,  I  was 
afraid  to  stir.  I  thought  we  had  been  neat  at  the 
convent,  but  our  utmost  cleanness  was  sluttery  com- 
pared to  that  which  reigned  here.  The  glass  win- 
dows, which  were  seen  every  where  in  Holland  long 
before  they  were  common  in  gentlemen's  houses  in 
England,  were  clear  as  air,  and  the  laced  curtains 
which  veiled  the  lower  parts  whiter  than  any  snow. 
Beautiful  pots  of  Delft  ware,  holding  growing  and 
blossoming  plants,  stood  in  the  window-seat,  and 
the  very  floor  was  of  rare  wood  waxed  and  polished 
like  a  mirror,  so  as  to  make  walking  somewhat  perilous 


284  Ztoveday's  History. 

to  the  unaccustomed  foot.  The  bed  was  all  in  white 
and  pale  blue,  and  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  speck 
of  dust  to  be  seen  any  where.  Avice  left  the  room, 
and  presently  came  back  with  an  armful  of  clean  linen 
and  a  gown.  She  would  help  me  to  dress,  but  that  I 
would  not  allow,  so  bidding  me  come  down  when  I 
was  ready,  she  left  me.  I  dressed  myself  at  last,  and 
went  back  to  the  room  I  had  left,  where  I  found  a 
table  spread  with  all  sorts  of  good  things,  while  a  tall, 
handsome,  solemn-looking  maid  servant,  wearing  the 
same  sort  of  head  ornament  I  had  seen  in  the  street, 
kept  bringing  still  more.  Here  I  was  introduced  to 
my  cousin's  husband,  a  stately  gentleman,  but  looking 
worn  and  sunburned.  I  had  found  my  appetite  by 
this  time,  and  did  full  justice  to  the  dainties  before 
me. 

"And  Katherine  is  well?"  asked  my  uncle. 

"Yes,  very  well;  and  her  new  babe.  The  little 
lad  hath  had  the  ague,  but  is  recovered — so  she 
writes." 

"  Ay,  they  are  like  to  have  a  fine  wreath  of  olive 
branches,"  said  Mynheer  Van  Alstine,  with  something 
of  a  sigh.  "  Methinks  they  might  spare  us  one." 

"  All  in  good  time,"  returned  my  aunt.  Then  to 
me  :  "  So  you  have  never  married,  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  aunt ; "  I  answered,  feeling  my  cheeks 
grow  red. 

"We  must  find  her  a  husband  somewhere,"  said 
Mynheer  Van  Alstine.  "  It  will  never  do  to  leave  so 
fine  a  maid  to  comb  St.  Catherine's  hair,  as  they  say 
in  France." 

"  All  in  good  time,"  repeated  my  uncle,  smiling. 
"  Loveday  is  not  so  old  or  so  foul-favored  but  she  can 


"  Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home."  285 

afford  to  wait  a  while  to  comfort  her  poor  old  uncle. 
What,  sweetheart — wilt  thou  live  single  for  my  sake, 
since  my  own  girls  have  been  carried  away  captive 
by  these  piratical  Dutchmen  ?  " 

"I  desire  no  better  fate,"  said  I.  Whereat  he 
laughed,  and  addressing  himself  to  his  son-in-law,  he 
began  to  ask  about  his  captivity  among  the  Barbary 
Moors. 

"  So  they  were  not  unkind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,  they  treated  me  well  enough  so  soon  as 
they  found  out  I  was  no  Spaniard,"  answered  the 
gentleman.  "  They  hate  the  Spaniards,  and  with 
good  reason." 

"  I  wonder  who  doth  not,"  said  mine  uncle,  under 
his  breath. 

"  I  had  traded  with  them  before  now,  and  could 
speak  their  language,  after  a  fashion,"  continued  my 
cousin  Garrett.  "  I  had  once  been  able  to  do  some 
service  to  a  merchant  of  Tripoli,  and  I  thought  if  I 
could  get  speech  of  him,  he  might  do  me  a  good  turn. 
At  last,  after  long  waiting,  I  succeeded  in  sending  him 
word,  and  in  a  few  days  I  found  myself  in  his  house 
and  treated  with  all  kindness.  He  found  means  for 
me  to  go  to  Smyrna,  and  from  thence  the  way  home 
was  easy." 

"  It  was  well  you  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Moors, 
and  not  into  the  claws  of  the  Inquisition,"  said  my 
uncle.  "  Strange  that  one  should  find  better  treat- 
ment at  the  hands  of  heathens  and  infidels  than  of 
those  who  call  themselves  Christians." 

"We  may  find  those  same  claws  clutching  at  our 
throats  even  here,  and  that  before  we  know  it,"  ob- 
served Garrett.  "  I  can  tell  you,  father,  I  like  not 


286  Lovedatfs  History. 

the  signs  of  the  times.  But  will  you  walk  to  the 
warehouse  with  me,  and  I  will  see  that  our  fair  cousin 
here  hath  her  finery  sent  home  safely." 

"  'Tis  but  little  finery  the  poor  maid  hath  brought 
with  her,"  answered  my  uncle,  smiling.  "  Our  flight 
was  too  secret  and  sudden  for  that.  But  I  will  walk 
with  you,  and  we  will  leave  the  women  to  gossip  to 
their  heart's  content." 

"As  if  they  would  not*  gossip  worse  than  any 
women  when  they  get  two  or  three  together,"  said 
Avice,  laughing.  "  But  sit  you  down,  and  rest,  Love- 
day.  I  will  but  give  some  orders,  and  be  with  you 
again  directly." 

She  set  an  arm  chair  for  me  as  she  spoke,  and  I  was 
not  sorry  to  be  left  alone  a  few  minutes,  for  my  head 
was  fairly  whirling.  The  room  where  I  sat  was  wide 
and  high,  handsomer  than  any  in  Suffolk  house,  and 
fairly  crowded  with  carved  and  inlaid  cabinets,  dam- 
ask-covered chairs  and  little  tables.  The  projecting 
window  was  partly  veiled  by  broad  white  curtains, 
and  just  above  it  was  an  arrangement  of  bright  mir- 
rors, jointed  curiously  together,  whereof  I  could  not 
at  first  perceive  the  use,  but  I  presently  discovered 
,  that  by  it  one  was  enabled  to  see,  without  being  seen, 
all  that  went  on  in  the  street.  The  little  square  or 
place  before  the  house  was  green  as  emerald,  and  not 
a  speck  or  stick  was  to  be  seen  on  its  surface,  while  a 
pond  in  the  midst  gave  entertainment  to  a  pair  of 
swans  and  some  white  ducks.  On  the  highest  chim- 
ney of  a  fine  house  across  the  square  was  a  pile  of  rub- 
bish, at  which  I  was  wondering,  when  I  saw  a  long- 
legged  and  long-billed  bird  alight  near  it,  and  begin 
strutting  up  and  down  in  a  pompous  way,  that  re-^ 


"Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home."  28? 

minded  me  of  the  old  beadle  in  our  parish  church  in 
London. 

"  What  is  that  bird  ?  "  I  asked  of  Aunt  Joyce,  who 
just  then  entered  the  room. 

"  Why  'tis  a  stork,  child.  The  people  here  treat 
them  as  a  kind  of  sacred  animal,  and  the  man  who 
should  kill  one  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  murderer. 
'Tis  counted  a  very  lucky  thing  to  have  a  stork's  nest 
on  one's  house.  We  have  a  fine  one.  'Tis  said  that  the 
young  birds  will  carry  their  old  parents  on  their 
shoulders,  and  that  the  parents  will  perish  in  the  fire 
rather  than  desert  their  young.  Every  one  is  glad  to 
see  the  storks  come  back  in  the  spring." 

"  No  wonder,  if  they  are  such  good  creatures.  But, 
aunt,  are  all  the  people  here  as  neat  in  their  ways  as 
my  cousin  ?  The  house  is  so  clean,  lam  almost  afraid 
to  move  for  fear  of  soiling  something." 

"  You  will  see,"  answered  my  aunt.  "  I  do  think, 
niece,  that  Dutch  women  in  general  think  of  their 
houses  not  so  much  as  places  to  dwell  in,  as  objects 
on  which  to  exercise  their  love  for  cleansing.  ;Tis 
said  that  the  pastor  of  Brock,  which  is  the  very  Para- 
dise of  neatness,  found  it  hard  to  interest  the  women 
of  his  parish  in  heavenly  things  till  he  described 
Heaven  as  a  place  where  golden  pavements  admitted 
of  unlimited  scouring.  Avice  falls  in  with  these  ways 
easily  enough.  You  know  she  was  always  a  born 
housekeeper,  but  I  fancy  poor  Katherine  is  looked 
upon  as  a  helpless  slattern  by  her  Dutch  neighbors. 
Happily  for  her,  Arthur's  congregation  is  made  up  of 
English  and  Scotch  people,  who  are  not  quite  so  par- 
ticular." 

"  And  Katherine  is  happy  in  her  marriage  ?  " 


288  Loveday's  History. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Her  husband  is  one  of  the  best  of  men, 
and  she  hath  four  lovely  babes — the  last  I  have  not 
seen.  They  are  not  rich,  nor  ever  will  be,  at  least  in 
this  world's  goods,  but  they  have  treasure  in  Heaven, 
ay  and  in  this  world  also.  I  never  saw  a  better 
ordered  family  of  children.  'Tis  a  great  grief  to  Gar- 
rett  and  Avice  that  they  have  none  ;  but,  as  I  tell  them, 
there  is  time  enough,  and  it  may  be  better  after  all," 
said  my  aunt,  sighing.  "  In  a  gale  those  are  best  off 
who  spread  the  least  sail." 

"  But  is  not  the  Protestant  religion  allowed  here  ?  " 
I  asked,  in  surprise.  "  I  thought  there  was  no  danger 
on  that  score." 

"'Tis  rather  winked  at  than  allowed,"  replied 
my  aunt.  "The  emperor  is  a  crafty  man,  and 
knows  well  the  temper  and  drift  of  this  people.  I 
believe  he  will  avoid  a  quarrel  if  he  can,  and  he  is  not 
a  man  to  be  driven  by  the  Church  of  Rome  further 
or  faster  than  he  likes  to  go.  But  he  grows  old,  and 
talks  at  times  of  abdicating  in  favor  of  his  son,  who 
is,  as  all  men  say,  a  cold,  cruel  bigot,  valuing  nothing 
so  much  as  what  he  calls — God  save  the  mark — Chris- 
tian and  Catholic  unity.  I  believe  the  hour  which 
puts  the  reins  into  his  hands  will  be  a  sad  one  for 
Holland." 

"  Heaven  help  us,"  said  I.  "  Is  there  to  be  no  rest 
in  this  world  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  replied  my  aunt,  with  that 
sweet,  wise  smile  that  I  remembered  so  well.  "  The 
Master,  at  least,  has  promised  us  none,  and  what  right 
have  we  to  expect  peace  with  His  worst  enemy.  Mark 
my  word,  child,  if  the  day  ever  does  come  that  the 
church  and  the  world  have  no  controversy,  that  will 


"  Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home"         ..      289 

be  the  worst  day  the  church  will  ever  see.  But  now 
tell  me  of  our  friends,  the  Davises.  Were  they  not 
greatly  relieved  to  hear  of  Margaret's  safety  ?" 

"  They  had  not  heard  it,  the  last  I  knew,"  I 
answered,  surprised.  "  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  At  Amsterdam,  with  her  husband,  who  has  fallen 
on  his  feet  as  I  may  say,  having  gotten  work  in  one  of 
the  great  printing  houses,  where  his  skill  hath  already 
raised  him  to  a  high  place,  and  Margaret  hath  a  school 
for  young  maids,  which  is  very  successful." 

"  And  so  it  should  be.  One  better  fitted  for  such 
an  office  could  not  be.  I  hope  I  may  see  her,  for  she 
hath  been  one  of  the  best  friends  I  ever  had." 

But  I  must  not  linger  over  the  hisfory  of  those 
quiet,  happy  days  ;  for  happy  they  were  spite  of  the 
secret  grief  and  longing  which  no  one  guessed — or  so 
I  believed.  I  had  thought  the  matter  over  and  over, 
and  had  gained  all  the  light  I  could  from  an  honest 
study  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  I  could  not  see  that  I 
was  guilty  of  any  sin  in  loving  Walter  Corbet.  It 
was  not  sacrilege,  as  I  had  first  believed,  since  no  word 
in  the  Bible  prohibited  priests  from  marrying.  I 
might  make  my  love  a  sin,  it  was  true,  if  I  let  it 
make  me  gloomy  or  discontented  ;  if  I  brooded  over 
it  and  occupied  my  thoughts  therewith  so 'as  to  inter- 
fere with  my  duties  to  God  or  man.  But  this  I  was 
humbly  resolved  not  to  do.  My  Father  had  laid  this 
cross  upon  me,  and  I  would  bear  it  till  he  saw  fit  to 
remove  it,  or  to  change  it  for  that  crown  which  he 
hath  promised  to  them  that  endure  to  the  end.  I  had 
read  some  romances  and  tales  of  maids  who  died  for 
love  or  had  unworthily  cast  themselves  away.  The 
first  might  perhaps  come — the  last  I  thought  never.  It 


290  Loveday's  History. 

seemed  to  me,  and  does  so  seem  now,  that  the  very 
fact  of  a  woman's  loving  honestly  would  make  her 
self-respecting  and  discreet.  Passion  might  make 
women  act  unworthily — true  love  never  ! 

Thus  thinking  and  resolving,  I  went  to  work  with 
all  my  might  at  whatever  my  hands  could  find  to  do, 
and  I  only  wished  it  were  more.  Garrett  Van  Alstine 
was  still  rich  despite  a  few  losses,  and  my  uncle  was 
also  well-to-do.  Servants  were  plenty,  and  I  soon 
found  the  Dutch  maids  brooked  little  interference 
with  their  ways.  There  seemed  to  be  no  indigent 
people  ;  one  never  saw  a  beggar  in  the  slreet ;  and  even 
in  the  poorest  parts  of  the  town  there  were  the  same 
comfort  and  neatness,  though  of  course  not  the  same 
amount  of  luxury,  which  were  found  in  our  own 
neighborhood.  I  made  a  long  visit  to  Katherine,'  and 
one  to  Margaret  Hall,  in  Amsterdam.  I  could  have 
found  plenty  to  do  in  either  place,  for  Kate's  olive- 
branches,  as  Garrett  called  them,  had  sprung  very 
close  together,  and  though  Arthur's  congregation 
gave  according  to  their  means  for  their  pastor's  sup- 
port, yet  those  means  were  not  great.  There  were 
plenty  both  of  steps  and  stitches  to  be  taken  in  the 
little  parsonage,  and  I  would  have  liked  well  to  stay 
with  Katherine,  whose  English  ways,  to  tell  the  honest 
truth,  suited  me  better  than  Avice's  Dutch  ones.  Mar- 
garet Hall  was,  if  not  rich,  yet  well-to-do.  Her  school 
had  grown  to  as  large  a  size  as  she  could  manage,  and 
both  she  and  her  husband  would  have  liked  me  to 
take  it  off  her  hands,  and  have  her  free  to  help  her  hus- 
band in  correcting  of  the  press  and  the  like.  The  work 
would  have  suited  me  well  enough,  but  iny  uncle  would 
not  hear  of  my  leaving  him,  and  indeed  showed  more 


"  Exiled,  and  yet  at  Home:''  291 

of  his  old  choleric  temper  on  the  occasion  than 
I  had  yet  seen.  Of  course  his  will  was  my  law, 
so  I  said  no  more  about  the  matter.  At  last 
however,  I  found  work  nearer  home.  There  was  an 
English  congregation  in  Rotterdam,  at  present  with- 
out a  pastor.  Many  of  them  were  poor  people  who 
had  fled  on  account  of  their  faith,  losing  all  for  the 
sake  of  the  gospel.  I  soon  got  in  the  way  of  visiting 
among  them,  and  finding  there  were  a  good  many  chil- 
dren, I  proposed  to  my  uncle  with  some  diffidence — 
not  knowing  how  he  would  like  it — that  I  should  set 
up  a  small  school  for  the  little  maids,  where  they 
could  learn  to  read,  sew  and  spin,  and  other  such  arts  as 
should  help  them  to  earn  a  living.  I  was  pleasantly  sur- 
prised to  find  him  take  up  the  idea  with  great  pleasure, 
saying  that  he  had  often  wished  some  one  would  do 
that  work.  The  parents  of  the  children  were  equally 
pleased.  My  uncle  found  out  and  furnished  a  small 
room,  and  I  discovered  a  suitable  assistant — such  a 
person  as  we  now  should  call  a  dame — in  an  elderly 
widow  without  children,  a  part  of  whose  house  we 
rented  for  the  school.  I  soon  had  my  rooms  full  of 
the  little  English  girls,  and  there  I  regularly  spent 
half  my  day  overseeing  the  work,  teaching  the  little 
things  to  read  the  Scriptures,  and  now  and  then 
moderating  a  little  Dame  Webster's  zeal  for  discipline. 
In  this  way  I  spent  a  not  unhappy  year,  attending 
to  my  schools,  taking  lessons  in  lace-making  and  en- 
tertaining my  uncle  and  cousins  in  the  evening  with 
music  when  we  had  no  guests,  which  was  not  often, 
for  Avice  was  in  great  favor  with  her  husband's  large 
family,  and  the  good  folks  quickly  adopted  me  as  a 
kinswoman.  I  learned  to  talk  Dutch  pretty  fluently, 


292  Loveday's  History. 

by  the  simple  process  of  talking  right  or  wrong,  and 
by  reading  such  books  as  I  could  lay  hands  on.  My 
cousin's  house  was  one  of  the  gathering  places  of  the 
distinguished  reformers  whereof  Holland  was  full  of 
at  that  time.  They  were  a  wonderful  scholarly  set 
of  men,  and  much  given  to  long  theological  discus- 
sions on  matters  which,  it  seemed  to  me,  were  alto- 
gether beyond  the  scope  of  human  reason.  Many 
times  the  discussion  waxed  FO  warm  that  I  thought  it 
would  end  in  a  downright  rupture,  but  all  would 
presently  be  friends  again  over  the  dainty  supper 
dishes  which  Avice  provided  on  these  occasions,  and  I 
never  saw  men  enjoy  good  things  more. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


ANOTHBB   HOME. 

IUGUST  had  come  round  again.  Such  of 
the  Dutch  merchants  as  had  places  in  the 
country  retired  to  them  and  passed  long 
hours  contemplating  their  flower  beds  and  their  fat 
cows.  For  my  own  part,  I  liked  Rotterdam  better, 
since  there,  at  least,  we  had  the  fresh  sea-breeze. 
Truth  to  tell,  with  all  its  neatness,  Holland  is  not  a 
savory  country  in  hot  weather.  Garrett  and  Avice 
had  gone  down  to  visit  Katherine,  and  the  maids  had 
seized  on  the  chance  for  a  perfect  carnival  or  orgy  of 
brushing  and  scrubbing,  though  the  house  was  always 
as  clean  as  hands  could  make  it.  However,  Gatty  had 
brought  me  that  morning  a  very  small  spider  web, 
tenanted  by  a  very  little  spider,  as  a  triumphant  justi- 
fication of  her  proceedings.  So  I  had  nothing  to  say, 
and,  indeed,  I  always  carefully  abstained  from  med- 
dling in  the  housekeeping.  I  was  tired  and  discour- 
aged— I  suppose  such  times  come  to  every  one — feel- 
ing that  my  burden  had  been  carried  long  enough, 
and  that  I  could  not  bear  it  any  longer.  I  was  not 
very  well  either,  having  been  troubled  of  late  with 
one  of  tbose  irregular  agues  which  are  the  plague  of 


294  Loveday^s  History. 

that  country.  I  had  heard  a  rumor  that  morning 
that  a  new  pastor  was  coming  to  the  English  congre- 
gation, but  I  did  not  know  his  name,  and  felt,  just 
then,  no  great  interest  in  the  matter,  beyond  hoping 
that  he  would  not  interfere  with  my  little  school. 

I  was  glad  to  find,  on  arriving  at  home,  that  the 
maids  had  so  far  finished  their  operations  that  the 
house  was  once  more  habitable.  I  looked  into  my 
aunt's  room,  and  seeing  her  comfortably  dozing  in  her 
chair,  I  went  to  my  own,  and  indulged  in  a  fit  of 
weeping,  which  was  an  unusual  thing  with  me.  I 
was  just  washing  my  face  and  making  myself  present- 
able when  I  heard  my  uncle's  voice  calling  me.  1 
hurried  my  preparations,  knowing  his  impatience  at 
being  kept  waiting,  but  was  not  quite  ready  when  I 
heard  him  coming  up  two  steps  at  a  time. 

"  Come,  come,  girl,  what  needs  all  this  prinking  ?  " 
he  asked,  as  I  opened  the  door.  "  Here  is  a  messenger 
from  our  good  protecter  and  friend,  his  Grace  of 
Suffolk." 

I  was  not  long  in  following  him  down  stairs,  and 
into  the  parlor.  The  queer  feeling  of  knowing  all 
about  it  came  over  me  as  I  entered  the  room,  and  I 
was  not  one  bit  surprised  to  see  Walter  Corbet,  thin 
and  worn,  and  dressed  like  a  common  sailor,  talking 
with  my  Aunt  Holland. 

Our  greeting  was  quiet  and  natural  enough,  but 
our  eyes  told  their  tale  to  each  other,  and  I  fancy  also 
to  my  aunt  and  uncle,  for  I  saw  a  smiling  glance  pass 
between  them. 

"  This  is  the  Duke's  messenger,  and  also  our  new 
English  pastor,  albeit  he  looks  not  very  reverend  in 
his  present  attire  !  "  said  mine  uncle.  "  But  '  'tis  not 


Another  Home.  295 

tho  cassock  that  makes  the  priest,'  is  an  old  and  pithy 
proverb.  Kinsman,  you  are  most  welcome.  And  how 
left  you  the  Duke  and  Duchess  ?  " 

"  Well  in  health,  but  in  deep  affliction,"  answered 
Walter.  "  They  have  lost  their  two  promising  young 
sons." 

"  Alas,  the  sweet  babes,  aro  they  gone  ?  "  I  said. 
"  What  ailed  them  ?  " 

"  The  sweating  sickness.  My  Lady  Frances  also 
had  it,  but  recovered,  thanks  to  her  mother's  nursing. 
'Twas  most  sweet  to  see  how  her  Grace  put  aside  her 
own  grief  to  attend  on  her  step-daughter,  and  com- 
fort her  husband.  But  the  blow  hath  been  a  terrible 
one  for  his  Grace.  I  doubt  he  will  hardly  recover  it." 

"  My  mistress  was  ever  a  most  noble  lady,  and  the 
best  of  wives  and  mothers,"  said  I.  "  I  can  believe 
any  good  of  her,  whether  in  prosperity  or  adversity." 

"  And  his  Grace  keeps  court  favor  still  ? "  asked 
mine  uncle. 

"  Ay — that  is,  he  keeps  that  of  the  king,  albeit  he 
has  enemies  enough,  for  he  hath  never  made  any 
secret  of  his  principles.  Gardiner  hates  him,  like  the 
venemous  adder  that  he  is." 

"  Nephew,  nephew,  deliver  all  with  charity  !  "  said 
my  aunt,  rather  shocked. 

"I  crave  pardon,  madam — of  the  snake,"  answered 
Walter,  with  a  flash  of  his  old  fun  in  his  eyes.  "  The 
poor  reptile  at  least  only  acts  out  his  nature,  and  uses 
no  deceit.  Gardiner  is  as  much  a  Papist  as  ever  he 
was,  and  so  it  will  be  seen  if  that  side  ever  again  gets 
uppermost." 

"  But  will  it  ever,  think  you  ?  " 

"  Not  if  our  gracious  Prince  Edward  is  preserved  to 


296  Loveday's  History. 

us.  But  he  is  a  delicate  lad,  or  so  it  is  said,  and 
failing  him  the  Lady  Mary  is  the  next  heir.  Every 
one  knows  what  her  bent  is ;  and  besides  that,  her 
nature  has  been  cankered  and  embittered  by  her  own 
wrongs  and  those  of  her  mother." 

"  Small  wonder,  poor  thing  !  "  remarked  my  uncle  ; 
"yet  might  she  remember  that  both  Tyndale  and 
Luther  took  her  mother's  part.  But  come  to  my 
room,  kinsman,  and  change  your  dress  for  somewhat 
more  befitting,  and  then,  when  you  have  dined,  we 
will  hear  your  adventures." 

Walter's  adventures  were  soon  told.  He  had  fallen 
under  suspicion  for  preaching  and  teaching,  and  his 
Grace  had  thought  it  best  for  him  to  fly  while  there 
was  yet  time.  He  had  heard  that  a  new  pastor  was 
needed  in  the  English  community  at  Rotterdam,  and 
had  come  hither  to  offer  his  services,  till  the  time 
should  come  when  he  could  return  in  safety  to  his 
beloved  cure  in  Devon. 

I  know  not  exactly  how  the  matter  was  arranged, 
but  Walter  was  soon  installed  as  pastor  over  the  small 
English  congregation,  and  delivered  his  first  sermon 
to  the  satisfaction  of  every  one  ;  though  I  believe  some 
of  the  Dutch  scholars  who  attended  on  the  occasion, 
thought  he  was  not  sufficiently  metaphysical,  and  that 
he  dwelt  too  much  on  the  need  of  good  works.  But 
his  own  people  were  content ;  so  it  mattered  the  less. 
A  small  parsonage  was  attached  to  the  church,  pre- 
sided over  by  a  somewhat  severe  English  dame,  and 
here  Walter  took  up  his  lodging,  though  I  think  he 
supped  as  often  at  our  house  as  at  his  own. 

A  month  after  he  was  fairly  settled  in  his  new 
home  and  occupation,  Walter  asked  me  to  be  bis 


Another  Home.  29? 

wife.  It  was  no  great  surprise  to  me,  and  I  did  not 
pretend  that  it  was  ;  but  I  asked  him  if  his  conscience 
was  quite  clear  as  to  marrying  after  he  had  taken  his 
vow  of  celibacy. 

"  Absolutely  so  !  "  he  answered.  "  My  vow  was 
taken  in  ignorance,  and  because  I  was  misled  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Law  of  God  required  priests  to  live  a 
single  life.  Now  I  find  that  not  only  is  there  no  such 
law,  but  that  St.  Peter  himself  was  married,  and  car- 
ried his  wife  with  him  on  his  apostolic  journeys,  as 
did  St.  James  and  the  brethren  of  the  Lord,  and  that 
St.  Paul  expressly  asserts  his  right  to  do  the  same  if 
he  chooses.*  And  I  can  not  bring  myself  to  believe 
that  the  state  of  life  chosen  by  the  Holy  Spirit  as  an 
emblem  of  the  union  between  the  Lord  and  his  church 
can  be  of  itself  unholy.  But  how  is  it  with  yourself, 
my  dear  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  settled  the  matter  long  ago  !  "  I  answered, 
incautiously,  and  then  covered  my  face  with  my 
hands,  overwhelmed  with  confusion  as  I  thought  of 
the  admission  I  had  made. 

"  Why,  then  all  is  well  !  "  said  Walter,  «  and  with 
your  good  leave,  I  will  tell  your  uncle  that  you  are 
not  disinclined  to  take  command  of  the  parsonage  and 
its  master." 

"  And  how  think  you  Mistress  Jennings  will  like  to 
have  a  young  lady  put  over  her  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  If  she  be  not  pleased,  she  hath  an  easy  remedy — 
she  can  retire  !  "  said  Walter.  "  But  I  think  not  we 
shall  have  any  trouble  with  her." 

There  was  no  reason  for  delay,  since  every  body 

*  Farrar  argues  very  plausibly  that  St.  Paul  was  probably 
a  widower. 


298  Lovedatfs  History. 

was  pleased  with  the  match.  True,  I  had  not  a  tithe 
of  the  body  and  house  linen  considered  indispensable 
for  every  bride  in  Holland.  But,  as  I  said,  the 
Van  Alstine  family  had  kindly  adopted  me  for  a 
kinswoman  from  the  first,  and  they  now  came  forward 
with  the  most  munificent  presents  from  their  abundant 
stores.  (It  grieves  me  to  the  heart  even  now  to  think 
how  much  of  my  setting  out  I  had  to  leave  behind 
me.)  Such  towels  and  sheets,  such  table-cloths  and 
napkins,  such  treasures  of  old  lace  and  embroidered 
counterpanes  !  Every  good  mother  in  Holland,  as 
soon  as  a  girl  is  born  to  her,  begins  to  prepare  these 
things  for  her  wedding,  and  by  the  time  the  child 
is  old  enough  to  be  married,  she  has  linen  enough 
to  last  her  lifetime.  Garrett  and  Avice  would 
give  me  my  wedding  dresses,  and  my  uncle 
refurnished  the  house  from  top  to  bottom.  Arthur 
and  Kate  came  from  Middleburg,  and  Arthur  married 
us.  Contrary  to  Walter's  expectation,  Mistress  Jen- 
nings took  his  marriage  exceedingly  ill,  and  abdicated 
at  once,  saying  she  would  have  no  fine  young  lady 
set  over  her  head.  I  was  not  at  all  sorry.  When 
she  found  her  retirement  made  no  such  sensation  as 
she  expected,  she  offered  very  condescendingly  to  re- 
main and  put  the  new  mistress  in  the  way  of  manag- 
ing her  household.  But  as  it  happened,  the  new 
mistress  thought  she  knew  how  already  ;  so  we  let  her 
go,  and  I  hired  a  nice,  strong,  clever  English  wench, 
who  I  thought  would  be  sufficient  for  us  at  present, 
with  occasional  help  from  outside  on  emergencies. 

It  was  a  very  happy  home  which  was  covered  by 
the  many -cornered  red-tiled  roof  of  the  little  parson- 
age. I  think  old  Madame  Van  Alstine,  Garrett's 


Another  Home.  299 

step-mother,  had  no  fears  for  us  after  a  pair  of  storks 
settled  themselves  on  one  of  our  chimneys.  It  is  the 
storks  in  Holland  which  bring  all  the  babies,  but  they 
never  brought  us  any.  It  was  a  grief  at  the  time, 
but  we  came  to  see  that  all  was  ordered  aright,  and 
the  want  was  made  up  to  us  afterward.  I  had  the 
more  time  to  give  to  the  school  and  the  work  of  the 
church.  After  a  time,  Katherine  spared  to  me  one  of 
her  daughters  who  was  and  hath  ever  been  a  great 
comfort  to  us. 

The  year  after  my  marriage,  my  Aunt  Joyce  died,  at 
the  age  of  ninety-eight.  She  was  well  and  able  to 
wait  upon  herself  to  the  very  last  day  of  her  life. 
A  vice  had  a  fine  little  maid  by  that  time,  and  my 
aunt  was  at  the  christening  and  gave  the  babe  her 
own  name.  The  next  morning,  when  Avice  went  to 
call  her  as  usual,  she  was  no  longer  there.  She  had 
evidently  passed  away  in  her  sleep.  It  was  a  happy 
death,  but  we  missed  her  sorely.  Of  all  women  I 
ever  saw,  she  had  the  most  excellently  even  temper 
and  discretion.  Aa  the  saying  is,  one  always  knew 
where  to  have  her.  This  was  the  only  important 
change  which  took  place  in  our  family  for  five  years. 
I  had  come  to  look  upon  Holland  as  home,  and  my 
English  life  was  almost  like  a  dream.  We  heard  of 
things  going  from  bad  to  worse,  of  the  king's  uncer- 
tain temper  and  continual  change  of  policy,  of  Prot- 
estants and  Papists  alike  being  hanged  and  burned 
for  their  religion.  Nor  were  we  wholly  without  fears 
for  ourselves.  There  were  ominous  growlings  of 
subterranean  thunder,  rumors  of  the  establishment  of 
the  Holy  Office  in  Holland,  of  new  imposts  and  severe 
laws  against  sectaries  ;  but  as  yet  the  storm  which  is 


300  Loveday^s  History. 

now  raging  over  that  brave  and  unhappy  people  did 
but  mutter  in  the  distance.  Walter  and  my  uncle 
used  to  talk  about  England  by  the  hour,  but  for  myself, 
I  must  say,  I  was  never  homesick,  save  when  I  thought 
of  certain  sparkling  springs  and  the  like.  I  would 
have  loved  to  see  a  babbling  brook  once  more. 

We  had  just  kept  our  Christmas  holidays,  with  the 
usual  interchange  of  gifts  and  distribution  of  spiced 
and  gilded  cakes.  I  remember  I  was  putting  away  a 
famous  one,  mounted  on  a  fine  china  dish,  which  Wil- 
helmina  Bogardus  had  sent  me  for  a  present.  We 
had  begun  to  get  china  dishes  then,  but  they  were  a 
great  rarity,  and  right  pleased  I  was  with  my  New 
Year's  gift.  All  at  once  the  door  was  opened,  and  in 
came  my  husband,  my  uncle  and  Garrett  Van  Alstine, 
all  talking  together,  and  so  full  of  their  tidings  that 
they  actually  forgot  to  wipe  their  feet,  and  brought 
more  mud  into  my  parlor  than  Garrett  would  ever 
have  dared  to  take  into  his  own  house,  that  I  know. 

"  News,  my  love  !  great  news  ! "  said  Walter. 
"  King  Henry  is  dead.  And  Prince  Edward  now  is 
king.  Now  may  we  return  in  peace  to  our  home  in 
dear  old  Devon,  and  dwell  once  more  among  our  own 
people." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  I  realized  how  constantly 
my  husband  had  cherished  the  hope  of  returning  to  his 
old  cure.  I  must  say  the  news  did  not  come  to  me  as 
to  him.  I  had  had  enough  of  removing  to  and  fro. 
I  had  many  friends  in  Rotterdam,  and  none  that  I 
knew  of  in  Devon,  and  I  would  have  been  content  to 
spend  my  life  in  that  same  little  parsonage,  waked 
every  morning  by  the  clatter  of  the  storks  and  the 
cry  of  their  young  ones.  I  loved  our  people  and  the 


Another  Home.  301 

family  which  had  so  frankly  and  kindly  adopted  me, 
and  my  heart  sunk  at  the  thought  of  such  another 
pulling  up  as  this  would  be.  I  answered  rather  peev- 
ishly : 

"  At  all  events,  you  need  not  bring  all  Holland  in 
upon  my  clean  floor.  We  are  not  going  to  take  the 
country  with  us,  I  suppose." 

I  was  ashamed  of  myself  the  moment  the  words 
were  spoken.  The  men  all  looked  at  me  in  surprise, 
and  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  my  husband  was  hurt  by 
my  outburst. 

"  Why,  what  ails  thee,  this  morning  ?  "  said  mine 
uncle,  laughing.  "  Art  become  such  a  thorough  Dutch 
housewife  as  to  think  a  little  mud  on  the  floor  of 
more  matter  than  the  death  of  a  king  or  the  well- 
being  of  the  church  ?  " 

Anneke  called  me  out  to  the  kitchen  just  then,  and 
I  was  not  sorry  to  get  away  and  recover  my  compos- 
ure. When  I  had  settled  the  domestic  difficulty, 
whatever  it  was,  I  retired  to  my  chamber,  and  strove 
by  prayer  and  meditation  to  bring  myself  to  a  better 
temper.  I  succeeded  so  far  that  I  was  able  to  meet 
my  husband  with  a  pleasant  face  when  he  came  in  to 
dinner,  and  to  ask  him  particulars  of  the  news  he  had 
received  from  England.  He  was  the  same  as  ever, 
and  told  me  all  he  had  heard  ;  but  he  said  never  a 
word  of  returning  to  Devon,  and  I  felt  that  I  would 
not  trust  myself  with  the  subject  just  now. 

We  were  bidden  to  supper  at  Garrett  Van  Alstine's 
house  that  night,  to  meet  the  guests  who  had 
brought  the  news.  I  was  pleased  to  meet  in  one  of 
them  a  gentleman  I  had  often  seen  in  her  Grace  of 
Suffolk's  withdrawing-room — one  Mr.  Evans,  a  West- 


302  Lovectay's  History, 

country  man  and  a  great  scholar.  While  I  sat  talk- 
ing with  him,  I  heard  Avice  say  to  my  husband  in  a 
tone  of  surprise — 

"  But  you  will  never  think  of  leaving  us,  and  re- 
turning to  England,  surely  V" 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mynheer  Bogardus,  Garrett's 
uncle,  a  very  rich  and  consequential  merchant,  who 
always  seemed  to  think  he  was  to  carry  all  before 
him  by  sheer  force  of  will.  "  I  take  it  Master  Wal- 
ter is  too  wise  a  man  to  leave  certainty  for  uncer- 
tainty." 

"  I  have  hitherto  found  uncertainty  the  only  cer- 
tain thing  in  this  world,"  answered  Walter,  smiling. 
"  I  suppose  our  poor  friends  in  Ilonak  were  as  certain 
of  rising  in  the  morning  as  we  are."  He  alluded  to 
a  flourishing  village,  which  only  a  few  days  before 
had  been  destroyed  in  the  night  so  that  not  a  trace 
remained,  and  that  not  by  an  inundation,  but  by  that 
strange  undermining  of  the  sea,  which  gives  no  warn- 
ing, and  which  has  destroyed  thousands  of  lives  in 
Holland. 

"  But  why  should  you  wish  to  change  again  ? " 
asked  another.  "I  do  not  understand  that  your 
benefice  in  England  is  a  very  wealthy  one." 

"  I  would  you  could  see  it,"  said  Walter,  smiling, 
and  then  turning  to  me  :  "  Tell  me,  sweetheart,  what 
would  Mistress  Van  Sittart  think  were  she  translated 
to  one  of  our  Devon  farm-houses  ?  " 

"  She  would  think  herself  transported  to  some 
island  of  savages,"  said  I ;  and  I  could  not  but  laugh  as 
I  thought  of  Carolina  Van  Sittart,  who  was  a  wonder 
of  neatness  even  among  Dutch  women,  in  an  or- 
dinary farmer's  kitchen,  or  even  a  gentleman's 


Another  Home.  303 

dining-hall,  in  our  old  neighborhood  at  Peckham 
Hall. 

"  Then  I  am  sure  Mistress  Corbet  will  not  wish  to 
go,"  said  Carolina.  "You  would  not  be  so  cruel  as 
to  carry  her  off  among  savages,"  and  with  that  they 
all  fell  upon  him  at  once  for  thinking  of  such  cruelty. 

"  As  to  that,  different  people  have  different  cus- 
toms," said  I,  in  some  heat,  for  when  it  came  to  the 
pinch,  of  course  I  took  Walter's  part ;  "  and  if  the 
people  are  such  savages,  they  have  the  more  need  of 
one  to  teach  them  the  way  of  life.  Here  in  Rotter- 
dam every  one  can  have  at  least  a  Testament,  or  if 
not,  they  can  hear  the  Word  read  and  preached 
every  Sunday." 

"  True,  but  how  many  never  do  ?  " 

"  That  is  their  own  fault.  I  suppose  if  the  apostles 
had  waited  till  every  one  in  Jerusalem  was  converted 
before  they  preached  elsewhere,  you  might  be  offer- 
ing human  sacrifices  to  this  day,  Mynheer  Bogardus, 
as  they  say  your  ancestors,  the  free  Frisians,  used 
to  do." 

Walter  gave  me  a  look  and  smile  that  went  to  my 
heart,  and  Mynheer  Bogardus  muttered  something  in 
his  beard  about  women  minding  their  distaffs — as  if 
I  could  not  spin  as  well  as  Gatty  any  day. 

"  Then  you  would  not  mind  going,"  said  Avice, 
with  one  of  her  innocent  looks  of  wonder.  "  You 
would  not  mind  leaving  us  all  and  going  into  that 
wild  West  Country  among  the  moors  and  hills." 

A  great  lump  came  into  my  throat,  but  I  swallowed 
it,  and  answered  resolutely  : 

"  I  do  not  say  that  I  should  choose  it,  but  if  my 
husband's  duty  leads  him  thither,  'tis  clearly  mine  not 


304  Lovedaifs  History. 

to  let  him  go  alone.  And  as  to  the  moors  and  hills, 
I  am  not  sure  but  I  would  love  to  see  some  land  not 
so  flat  that  a  tall  man  can  be  seen  two  miles  off.  And 
I  am  very  sure  I  should  like  a  drink  of  water  from  a 
living  spring  once  more." 

A  call  to  supper  interrupted  the  discussion,  which 
was  doubtless  as  well,  for  I  was  growing  warm,  as 
one  is  apt  to  do  when  arguing  against  one's  self.  No 
more  was  said  at  that  time,  but  when  we  were  walk- 
ing homeward,  Walter  asked  me,  saying  : 

"  Sweetheart,  did  you  really  mean  all  you  said  to- 
night about  going  back  to  Devon  ?  Would  you  in- 
deed go  and  content  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  would  go,  of  course,  if  you  did,"  I  answered.  "  I 
don't  pretend  to  say  I  should  like  it  as  well  in  all 
ways,  but  I  doubt  not  I  could  content  myself,  and  I 
am  pretty  well  used  to  changes." 

"  Ay,  that  you  are,  poor  child,"  said  Walter. 

"  But,  husband,  I  would  not  have  you  decide  in 
haste,"  I  added.  "Take  time  to  consider.  You 
know  Mynheer  Bogardus  says  second  thoughts  are 
best." 

"  And  do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  my  husband,  with 
one  of  his  penetrating  looks. 

"  No  ;  honestly  I  do  not,"  I  answered.  "  I  think 
when  one  is  habitually  guided  by  high  Christian  prin- 
ciple, as  you  are,  that  the  first  thought  is  usually  the 
best,  because  the  second  is  apt  to  get  mixed  up  with 
worldly  policy.  But,  husband,  I  would  have  you 
take  time  to  consider  and  pray  over  this  matter.  Take 
counsel  with  Mr.  Evans.  He  knows  the  West  Coun- 
try well,  and  can  tell  you  what  are  the  prospects,  and 
I  know  his  Grace  ever  held  him  in  esteem  as  a  wise 


Another  Home.  305 

and  sober  man.  Then  if  you  decide  that  your  duty 
takes  you  back  to  the  gray  parsonage  your  wife  will 
not  say  one  word  to  withhold  you." 

Walter  pressed  my  hand.  "  Your  counsel  is  good, 
and  I  will  take  it,"  said  he  ;  but  I  knew  well  enough 
what  the  end  would  be.  Men  are  ever  ready  to  take 
counsel  after  they  have  made  up  their  own  minds. 

Mr.  Evans  came  to  give  us  a  visit  next  day,  and  he 
and  Walter  had  a  great  talk,  I  sitting  by  with  my 
knitting,  which  I  have  ever  found  a  great  sooth- 
er of  the  nerves.*  He  was,  as  I  had  said,  a  wise 
and  sober  man,  and  a  devout  Christian.  He  told 
Walter  he  believed  the  reign  of  King  Edward  would 
see  the  Reformed  faith  set  on  so  firm  a  basis  as  that 
no  after  persecution  could  overthrow  it. 

"  The  truth  spreads  more  and  more  among  the  peo- 
ple, and  with  it  the  knowledge  of  letters.  Old  men 
and  women  can  then  have  books,  and  their  criss-cross 
row,  that  they  may  be  able  to  read  the  Gospel  with 
their  own  eyes.  There  have  been  great  stirrings  and 
preachings  about  Exeter,  and  those  not  always  of  the 
wisest  kind.  'Tis  the  tendency  of  poor  human  nature 
ever  to  run  to  extremes." 

"  The  more  need  for  preachers  who  shall  not  run  to 
extremes,"  said  my  husband. 

"  True,"  answered  Mr.  Evans.  "  There  is,  indeed, 
great  need  of  wise  and  sober  preachers  and  teachers, 
and  that  especially  among  our  warm-hearted  and 
quick-witted  men  of  Devon.  As  to  the  matter  of 
safety,  you  are  as  well  off  there  as  here — nay,  bet- 

*  Women  ought  to  be  forever  grateful  to  the  Spanish  Moors, 
who  seem  first  to  have  brought  knitting  into  Europe  from  the 

East. 


306  Loveda^s  History. 

ter,  so  long  as  King  Edward  lives,  whom  God  pre- 
serve. I  did  marvel  to  hear  Mynheer  Bogardus 
speak  so  confidently  last  night.  Does  he  forget  that 
Holland  is  wholly  in  the  power  of  Spain,  and  that 
Spain  is  ruled  by  the  Inquisition  ?  " 

"I  think  he  does,  just  as  the  Hollanders  forget  that 
the  sea  is  ever  watching  to  take  back  what  they  have 
wrested  from  it.  The  emperor  hath  ever  been  favor- 
able, rather  than  otherwise,  to  his  Dutch  subjects." 

"  Ay,  but  the  emperor  grows  old,  and  also  devout, 
which  last  is  not  of  good  omen  to  his  Protestant 
people,"  answered  Master  Evans,  dryly.  "Moreover, 
if  he  should  abdicate,  as  you  know  he  often  talks  of 
doing—" 

"  Think  you  that  will  ever  happen  ?  " 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  say,  but  if  it  does  it  will 
lay  a  knife  to  every  Protestant  throat  in  Holland — 
that  am  I  as  sure  of  as  of  mine  own  life." 

But  I  must  not  make  my  story  too  long.  Walter 
did  wait,  and  did  think,  but  his  mind  was  made  up 
from  the  first,  and  the  first  of  May  saw  us  packed  up 
and  ready  to  go  on  board  a  Dutch  vessel  trading  to 
Bristol. 

'Twas  a  hard  parting,  and  the  more  that  I  had  to 
leave  my  little  Kate  behind,  her  mother  not  being 
willing  to  trust  her  so  far  from  her  own  home.  I  did 
not  blame  her,  for  I  knew  I  should  have  felt  just  so 
in  her  place,  but  yet  'twas  like  parting  with  a  hand  to 
leave  the  dear  child  behind.  We  took  our  old  En- 
glish maid,  Mary  Thornton,  with  us,  and  I  had  just 
seen  my  good  Anneke  settled  in  her  husband's  farm- 
house in  such  comfort  as  I  would  I  could  see  any 
where  here.  (I  suppose  the  great  farm,  with  all  its 


Another  Home.  307 

crops  and  barns,  its  warm  house  and  beautiful  pictures, 
is  all  under  water  now.)  I  will  not  linger  on  the  part- 
ing. Be  it  enough  to  say  that  we  reached  Bristol  after 
a  somewhat  tedious,  but  very  safe  voyage,  that  we  had 
a  rough  journey  from  thence  to  Biddeford,  in  a  dirty 
little  coaster,  and  at  last,  a  month  after  leaving  home, 
found  ourselves  at  our  own  house  in  the  little  village 
or  hamlet  of  Coombe  Ashton. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

COOMBE    ASHTON. 

jHE  vicarage  of  Coombe  Ashton  is  just  beside 
the  gray  old  church,  so  that  its  garden  and 
orchard,  and  the  churchyard  run  together 
without  any  divisions,  save  a  bank  overrun  with  sweet- 
brier  and  ivy.  'Tis  a  stone  house  of  two  floors  and 
three  or  four  gables,  convenient  and  roomy  enough, 
but  plain  and  unornamented  as  any  farm-house.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  forlorn  and  wretched  it  looked 
to  my  eyes  the  first  time  I  entered  its  doors.  My 
husband  had  left  his  cure  in  the  hands  of  Sir  David 
Dean,  a  good  and  religious  priest,  but  one  as  absent- 
minded  and  indifferent  to  his  own  comfort  as  any 
man  I  ever  saw.  He  had  lived  alone  in  the  vicarage 
all  these  years  without  a  housekeeper,  save  that  an 
old  woman,  living  in  one  of  the  alms-cottages  by  the 
church-gate,  now  and  then  came  in  and  scratched  about 
a  bit  like  a  hen  in  a  straw-yard.  Any  one  who  knows 
what  men  are  when  left  to  themselves,  may  guess 
what  condition  matters  were  in  after  seven  or  eight 
years  of  such  housekeeping.  The  rushes  on  the  floor 
must  have  been  at  least  three  months  old,  and  showed 
such  a  state  of  things  when  we  swept  them  out,  that 
Mary  Thornton  sat  down  on  the  doorstep  and  cried. 


Coombe  Ashton.  309 

"  Come,  come,  Mary  ;  this  will  never  do,"  said  I, 
though  I  could  have  cried  myself,  easily  enough. 
"  Think  if  Madame  Bogardus  should  come  in  and  find 
us  in  all  this  mess." 

Mary  Thornton  laughed  and  then  cried  again,  and 
having  so  relieved  her  mind,  went  to  work  like  a 
heroine.  How  we  two  women  slaved  that  day,  sweep- 
ing and  scouring,  and  shaking  out,  while  the  village 
maid,  whom  Walter  had  sent  in,  did  little  more  than 
stare  in  amazement,  and  stand  about  in  the  way. 
Thanks  to  my  uncle  and  Garrett,  we  had  enough 
ready  money,  so  Walter  rode  over  to  Biddeford  and 
brought  back  a  piece  of  moreen  and  another  of  green 
baize.  When  we  had  the  house  decently  clean  and 
sweet,  Mary  and  I  set  ourselves  down  to  the  making 
of  some  hangings  and  curtains,  and  while  we  were 
thus  busy,  one  of  our  parishioners,  a  farmer's  wife, 
Dame  Yen,  came  in,  bringing  a  pot  of  cream  and  a 
basket  of  new  laid  eggs.  1  must  say  our  people  were 
very  good  to  us  from  the  first,  save  two  or  three 
families,  who,  holding  to  the  old  ways,  looked  upon 
Walter  and  myself  as  altogether  profane  and 
sacrilegious  persons. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  exclaimed  the  good  woman,  in  sur- 
prise. "  Well,  you  do  look  as  neat  as  any  daisy. 
But,  my  dear  soul,  what  be  you  a-doin'  now.  Making 
of  hangings,  I  declare.  Why  thou'lt  never  get 
through  all  that  by  thyself,  madam." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  much  I  can  do,"  I 
answered. 

"  1  see  well,  madam,  that  you  are  a  good  housewife," 
answered  Dame  Yeo,  "  but  yet  you  should  have  more 
help.  There  is  a  very  decent  body  living  alone  in  a 


310  Lovedaifs  History. 

cottage  down  to  our  place  who  has  skill  with  the 
needle.  May  be  you  saw  her  in  church — a  tall  woman 
in  black,  a-sitting  on  one  of  the  stone  benches.  Folks 
say  she  has  been  a  nun,  and  some  hint  that  she  knows 
more  than  she  should,  but  I  believe  she  is  a  good 
woman  for  all  that." 

"  I  noticed  her,  and  wondered  who  and  what  she 
was,"  said  I.  "  Do  you  think,  dame,  she  would  come 
and  help  us  ?" 

"  I  dare  say  she  would,  and  I  will  ask  her  when  I 
go  home.  But,  madam,  there  is  good  news  for  you. 
Our  young  squire  and  his  lady  have  returned  to  the 
manor  house,  and  'tis  said  they  mean  to  live  there,  or 
at  least,  to  abide  some  time." 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  I  asked.  "  You  know  I  am  a 
stranger  here." 

"  Oh,  they  are  great  folks,"  answered  Dame  Yeo. 
"  Sir  Robert  is  heir  to  my  Lord  Stantoun  of  Stantoun, 
unless  he  should  marry  again  and  have  children,  and 
my  lady  is  daughter  to  old  Sir  Stephen  Corbet  They 
lived  here  once  before  a  little  while,  but  the  lady  was 
carried  off  by  pirates  and  hardly  rescued,  and  after 
that  they  took  a  dislike  to  the  place.  Some  say," 
and  here  her  voice  sunk  to  a  whisper,  "  that  it  was 
not  pirates  who  carried  her  off,  but  that  a  priest  was 
mixed  up  in  it.  I  don't  know.  Any  how,  she  is  a  most 
gracious  lady,  and  I  am  right  glad  she  hath  come  back. 
Well,  Madam  Corbet,  I  will  send  Dame  Anne  to  you, 
an'  you  will." 

"  Do  so,"  I  answered.  "  And,  dame,  will  you  carry 
this  little  book  to  your  daughter.  'Tis  a  copy  of  the 
Psalms  in  English,  and  will  be  easy  for  her  to  hold 
and  read."  For  poor  Amy  Yeo  was  held  fast  in  bed 


Coombe  Ashton.  311 

by  a  broken  joint  which  had  never  knit  kindly  and 
gave  her  great  pain.  "  Tell  her  my  husband  will  come 
to  see  her  as  soon  as  he  can." 

The  good  woman  departed  well  pleased,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  the  woman  she  called  Dame  Anne, 
made  her  appearance.  I  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a 
lady,  and  made  haste  to  set  her  an  easy  chair.  She 
put  on  no  airs,  however,  but  seeing  on  what  we  were 
engaged  she  went  at  once  to  work  and  showed  that 
she  knew  what  she  was  about. 

"  The  lady  sews  like  a  Dutch  woman  !  "  said  Mary 
Thornton. 

"  Nevertheless  I  have  never  been  out  of  England," 
answered  Dame  Anne,  smiling,  "  but  I  was  convent- 
bred,  and  there  we  learned  to  handle  our  needles  at 
least." 

"  Ay,  and  many  another  good  thing  beside,"  I 
answered.  "  I  wonder  sometimes  what  young  ladies 
will  do  for  education  now  the  convents  are  put 
down?" 

"  Perhaps  their  mothers  will  keep  them  at  home  and 
teach  them,  which  is  the  natural  way,  methinks," 
answered  Dame  Anne.  "An'  I  had  a  daughter, 
I  would  never  put  her  into  any  hands  but  my 
own." 

I  may  as  well  say  here,  that  we  found  Dame  Anne 
one  of  our  greatest  helps  in  the  parish.  The  woman 
who  had  kept  a  little  school  in  the  hamlet  down  by 
the  shore — a  very  superior  person  by  all  accounts — 
had  died  about  six  months  before,  and  the  children 
were  running  wild.  After  making  himself  well  ac- 
quainted with  her,  and  having  duly  consulted  with 
our  lady  of  the  manor,  Dame  Anne  was  installed  by 


312  Loveday's  History. 

my  husband  in  the  office  of  school -mistress,  and  filled 
it  to  admiration  as  Jong  as  she  lived. 

"Well,  the  end  of  the  month  found  us  fairly  settled 
in  our  new  home,  and  very  comfortable  therein. 
When  Sir  David  came  home  from  Exeter — whither 
he  had  gone  to  meet  us,  though  we  had  never  told 
him  we  meant  to  go  thither — he  held  his  hands  up  in 
amazement  at  the  change  wrought  in  the  parsonage. 
But  he  would  by  no  means  have  his  abode  with  us, 
saying  that  he  should  only  be  in  our  way,  and  that  he 
was  too  old  to  change  his  habits,  so  he  took  up  his 
lodging  with  an  old  couple  who  had  more  room  than 
they  wanted,  and  lived  with  them  to  the  day  of  his 
death,  which  happened  about  three  years  after.  He 
had  a  modest  competence,  which  he  bequeathed  to  the 
poor  of  the  parish;  and  my  husband,  wit!)  Sir  Richard's 
approbation,  built  and  endowed  therewith  two 
more  alms-houses,  specially  for  disabled  fishermen, 
or  their  widows.  But  I  am  running  before  my 
story. 

If  Sir  David  had  been  a  bad  housekeeper,  he  had 
not  been  an  unfaithful  priest,  as  the  state  of  the  parish 
showed  plainly  enough.  The  church  had  been  stripped 
of  its  images,  but  not  defaced  and  half  ruined,  as  was 
the  case  with  too  many.  The  great  painted  window 
was  quite  untouched,  the  chancels  decent  and  clean, 
and  the  seats  whole.  It  was  but  a  little  place  at  best, 
and  a  good  deal  of  space  was  taken  up  by  two  or 
three  great  altar  tombs,  but  it  was  large  enough  to 
hold  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  two  hamlets  which 
made  up  the  parish.  Sir  David  had  provided  at  his 
own  expense  a  great  Bible,  which  was  chained  to  a 
desk  in  the  choir,  where  any  one  was  at  liberty  to  read 


Coombe  Ashton.  313 

it,  and  so  soon  as  King  Edward's  new  prayer  book 
and  primer  were  published,  Sir  Richard  Stantoun  sent 
fora  number  of  copies  from  Exeter,  and  had  them 
placed  in  the  seats  or  given  to  heads  of  families. 
My  husband  explained  the  book  from  the  chancel,  and 
I  must  say  the  most  of  the  people  fell  in  with  it  very 
quickly,  so  that  we  had  as  well-ordered  and  devout  a 
congregation,  I  dare  say,  as  could  be  found  in  Britain. 
I  am  proud  to  say  that  in  the  changes  which  followed 
the  king's  early  death  not  one  apostate  was  found  in 
my  husband's  flock,  and  had  we  but  been  at  home 
when  the  storm  broke,  I  believe  we  should  have  es- 
caped in  safety.  I  soon  formed  a  warm  friendship 
with  our  lady  of  the  manor — my  Lady  Rosamond, 
she  was  always  called,  though  being  a  simple  knight's 
daughter,  she  had,  I  suppose,  no  right  to  the  title. 
She  had  been  convent-bred  as  well  as  myself,  and  had 
a  narrow  escape  of  being  convent-buried,  for — there  is 
no  harm  in  writing  it  now — they  were  no  pirates 
which  carried  her  off,  but  a  certain  priest  called 
Father  Barnaby,  who  had  great  power  at  that  time. 
They  had  her  immured  in  some  of  their  prisons,  and 
threatened  to  bury  her  alive,  but  she  was  saved  in 
quite  a  wonderful  way,  by  her  own  courage  and  the 
intervention  of  that  same  Magdalen  Jewell  who  had 
been  school-mistress  here  so  long.  She  had  known 
Sister  Anne  well  in  those  days,  and  was  glad  to  see 
her  again.  They  had  been  together  in  the  convent 
which  was  now  suppressed  like  all  the  rest.  Sister 
Anne  inquired  for  the  Mother  Superior. 

"  She  is  now  visiting  a  friend,  but  she  will,  I  be- 
lieve, make  her  home  with  me  for  the  rest  of  her 
days,"  answered  the  lady,  "  whether  I  remain  here  or 


314  Loveday^s  History. 

return  to  Stantoun  Court.  She  is  well,  but  a  good 
deal  shaken  by  all  that  hath  happened." 

We  used  to  have  great  comparing  of  notes  as  to  our 
convent  experiences,  and  we  agreed  that  though  the 
way  of  their  suppression  was  harsh  and  cruel  in  many 
instances,  yet  on  the  whole  the  church  was  better 
without  these  so-called  religious  houses.  I  have  never 
seen  reason  to  change  my  mind.  I  regretted  it  greatly 
when  Sir  Richard,  coming  to  the  title  by  the  death 
of  my  Lord  Stantoun,  removed  to  Stantoun  Court. 
This  excellent  pair  never  forgot  the  parish  of  Coombe 
Ashton,  however,  but  always  held  up  my  husband's 
hands  in  his  parish  work. 

Walter  preached,  and  prayed,  and  studied,  and 
visited  the  sick  and  dying,  and  was,  I  dare  be  sworn, 
as  faithful  a  parish  priest  as  could  be  found  in  En- 
gland. Meantime,  I,  on  my  part,  kept  his  house  and 
overlooked  the  parish  school,  and  another  which  we 
had  set  up  down  at  the  Cove  for  the  little  children 
who  would  not  come  so  far  in  bad  weather:  I  tried, 
too,  to  teach  the  gospel  of  cleanliness  as  I  had  learned 
it  in  Holland,  but  here  I  had  indifferent  success. 
'Twas  so  much  easier  to  cover  the  floors  with  rushes 
than  to  sweep  them  every  day  and  scrub  them  twice 
a  week  ;  and  as  to  the  ill  smells  and  the  vermin,  why 
they  were  used  to  them.  However,  I  did  make  some 
progress  with  the  young  ones,  and  I  soon  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  push  my 
zeal  too  far.  The  good  women  liked  their  maids  to 
learn  sewing  and  knitting,  mending  and  shaping,  and 
they  were  well  pleased  when  I  taught  some  of  them, 
as  a  reward,  to  make  a  serviceable  kind  of  lace  with 
the  needle.  The  maids  learned  to  read,  and  some  of 
them  to  write,  and  to  reckon  in  their  heads. 


Coombe  Ashton.  315 

By  and  by  we  had  a  boy^'s  school  taught  by  a  young 
man  sent  us  by  my  lord.  It  was  not  so  well  attend- 
ed as  the  other,  for  the  farmers  and  fishers  were  not 
willing  to  spare  their  lads  after  they  were  old  enough 
to  be  useful,  but  yet  we  turned  out  some  good  schol- 
ars. My  husband  was  a  musican  like  all  the  Corbets, 
and  the  school  master  was  also  a  singer.  So  we  had 
some  good  music  in  the  church. 

On  the  whole,  it  was  a  happy  time.  I  will  not  deny 
that  I  was  now  and  then  homesick,  especially  when 
three  or  four  times  a  year  I  had  a  packet  from  Hol- 
land. Avice  was  usually  the  writer,  and  a  capital 
correspondent  she  was,  telling  me  all  the  news  of  our 
old  neighbors,  and  every  thing  that  happened  in  the 
family.  Garrett  Van  Alstine  wrote  to  my  husband 
and  told  him  what  was  going  on  in  church  and  State, 
and  'twas  plain  to  see  that  he  was  by  no  means  easy 
in  his  mind.  The  emperor  had,  indeed,  not  abdicated 
in  favor  of  his  son,  but  he  was  always  talking  of  it, 
and,  as  he  grew  older,  and  more  feeble  in  mind  and 
body,  he  came  more  and  more  under  the  influence  of 
the  priests.  There  were  restrictions  placed  upon  the 
printing  and  sale  of  Protestant  books,  and  threat- 
ening rumors  as  to  the  breaking  up  of  Protestant  con- 
gregations. Avice  wrote  that  their  neighbors  of  the 
old  church,  with  whom  they  had  ever  lived  in  friend- 
ship and  harmony,  began  to  look  coldly  on  them 
and  to  withdraw  from  their  intimacy,  and  that 
Margaret  Hall's  school  at  Amsterdam  had  been 
almost  broken  up.  On  the  whole,  we  were  not  sorry 
that  we  had  returned  to  England,  where,  though  mat- 
ters of  state  were  somewhat  unsettled,  we  had  no  fear 
of  persecution  for  the  truth's  sake. 


316  Loveday's  History. 

It  was  in  the  year  1551,  that  I  had  a  great  and  agree- 
able surprise.  I  remember  I  was  busy  making  cakes 
and  comfits,  for  we  were  to  have  a  school  treat  the 
next  day,  and  I  had  been  concerting  some  famous 
Christmas  cakes  after  our  old  Dutch  receipt,  and  fash- 
ioning them  in  the  shape  of  animals  and  birds,  as  the 
manner  is  over  there,  for  a  surprise  to  the  young  ones. 
I  had  just  taken  the  last  batch  from  the  oven  when 
a  man-servant  in  my  Lord  Stantoun's  livery  rode  to  the 
door,  and  delivered  a  note  for  my  husband.  Present- 
ly Walter  came  into  the  kitchen,  when  I  was  put- 
ting the  last  touches  to  my  cakes. 

"  Here  is  news,  dear  heart,"  said  he.  "  My  lord  and 
lady  are  at  the  Manor  House,  and  would  have  us  re- 
pair thither  at  once.  He  says  that,  being  in  Biddeford, 
he  found  there  a  package  of  great  value,  consigned  to 
us  from  Holland,  and  which  he  must  deliver  into  our 
own  hands." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  I,  rather  vexed,  for  I  had  enough 
to  do.  "  Why  can  not  you  go  by  yourself  ?  No  won- 
der Dame  Duncan  says  you  are  a  woman-led  priest, 
when  you  can  not  so  much  as  go  to  the  Hall  without 
me  at  your  elbow  !  " 

Walter  only  stood  smiling  at  me.  He  knew  it  was 
only  a  spirt  of  temper,  such  as  all  cooks  have  a  right 
to.  I  made  him  burn  his  mouth  with  a  hot  cake,  and 
then  I  got  ready  and  went  with  him  to  the  Hall,  leav- 
ing Mary  Thornton  to  finish  the  work. 

We  found  my  lady  with  her  two  young  babes,  she 
having  brought  them  over  by  the  advice  of  Master 
Ellonwood,  who  thought  they  would  be  better  for  the 
more  bracing  air,  as  they  had  trouble  with  their  teeth. 
(Master  Ellenwood  was  bred  a  doctor  in  Amsterdam, 


Coombe  Ashton.  317 

and  had  established  himself  in  a  good  practice  at 
Biddeford.  He  was  not  seldom  our  guest,  and  always 
a  welcome  one.) 

"  So  you  have  come  for  your  packet !  "  said  my 
lady.  "  But,  dear  Mistress  Corbet,  I  know  not  about 
delivering  it.  Truth  to  tell,  I  am  enamored  of  it,  and 
know  not  how  to  let  it  go  out  of  my  hands." 

I  saw  my  lady  was  jesting  with  us  ;  but  sober 
Walter,  who  could  understand  every  thing  but  a 
joke,  answered  gravely  that  he  was  sure  I  would  be 
glad  to  proffer  to  her  ladyship  any  thing  worthy  of 
her  acceptance." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that  !  "  answered  the  lady> 
merrily.  "  Suppose  now  it  were  a  parrot,  or  marmoset 
or  a  fine  cat  from  the  Indies,  such  as  you  once  told 
me  of ! " 

"  You  are  welcome  to  all  my  share  in  parrot  and 
marmoset,  and  as  to  the  cat  I  am  not  so  sure,  but,  at 
least,  I  will  promise  you  a  kitten  !  "  said  I .  "  Cats  are 
my  weak  point,  as  you  know,  my  lady." 

"  Ah,  well  !  so  I  must  even  give  my  pet  into  your 
hands.  But  remember  you  have  promised  me  a  kit- 
ten." 

There  was  a  little  cabinet  in  the  withdrawing-room, 
having  a  curtain  hung  over  the  door,  and  as  I  sat,  I 
had  seen  this  curtain  shake  more  than  once.  Now,  as 
my  lady  blew  her  little  silver  whistle,  it  parted,  and  in 
the  opening  appeared  a  child's  head,  with  flaxen  hair 
and  large  serious  blue  eyes. 

"  Katherine  !  'tis  our  own  little  Katherine  ! "  I  ex- 
claimed, while  Walter  stared  in  amazement.  I  had 
her  in  my  arms  in  a  moment,  while  my  lady  looked  on 
smiling. 


318  Isoveday^s  History. 


"  Did  I  not  tell  you  'twas  a  precious  treasure,"  she 
asked  when  our  rapture  bad  a  little  subsided.  "And 
have  I  not  played  the  honest  merchant  with  you  ?  " 

"  Precious,  indeed  !"  said  I.  "But  I  am  all  amazed  ! 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Nay  I  do  not  understand  the  matter  well  enough 
to  tell  you,"  answered  my  lady.  "  But  no  doubt 
our  marmoset  can  give  a  good  account  of  herself,  so  I 
will  leave  you  together  till  dinner,  for  you  must  dine 
with  us." 

I  began  to  say  something  about  preparing  for  the 
school  feast,  but  my  lady  cut  me  short. 

"Never  mind  the  feast.  I  have  brought  over  com- 
fits and  gilt  gingerbread  enough  to  satisfy  every  child 
in  Coombe  Ashton,  not  to  mention  ribbons  and  scissors 
and  all  sorts  of  prizes.  Do  you  stay  and  dine 
hore,  and  to-morrow  we  will  all  attend  the  school 
feast." 

So  we  were  fain  to  sit  down,  and  taking  the  dar- 
ling between  us,  to  hear  all  she  had  to  say.  She  was 
grown  a  little,  but  not  changed  in  her  looks,  which 
were  her  mother's  over  again,  and  she  had  the  same 
sweet  serious  way  with  her. 

The  story,  disentangled  from  all  our  questions  and 
remarks,  was  this: 

Arthur  and  Katherine  had  begun  to  find  their  posi- 
tion in  Middleburg  both  uneasy  and  insecure.  Their 
congregation,  always  small,  had  been  almost  broken 
up  by  deaths  and  removals,  and  they  were  doubting 
which  way  to  turn  next,  when  Arthur  received  a  call 
from  an  English  colony  in  Wesel,  one  of  the  German 
towns  belonging  to  the  famous  Hanse  league.  They 
had  gathered  together  a  congregation,  but  had  not 


\ 


Coombe  Ashton.  319 

yet  found  a  pastor,  when  some  one  from  Amsterdam 
who  knew  Arthur  told  them  of  him. 

The  call  was  too  clearly  Providential  not  to  be 
heeded.  Katherine's  oldest  boy  had  already  been 
placed  with  Garrett  Van  Alstine  to  be  made  a  mer- 
chant of,  and  an  opportunity  occurring  to  send  Kath- 
erine  directly  to  Biddeford  in  the  care  of  a  merchant 
well  known  to  my  uncle  and  cousin,  they  had  taken 
advantage  thereof,  wishing,  as  Arthur  wrote,  to  know 
that  at  least  one  of  their  children  was  in  security. 
Little  did  they  or  we  know  of  the  storm  that  was 
about  to  burst  upon  England. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE     GREAT     8TOKM. 

|ELL,  the  school  feast  was  held  with  great 
success,  and  was  all  the  more  enjoyed  that  we 
had  my  lady  with  us,  for  she  was  one  of 
those  who  carry  sunshine  wherever  they  go.  Our 
little  Kate  was  taken  to  the  arms  and  heart  of  the 
parish  at  once,  and  many  were  the  "dear  souls"  and 
"  tender  lambs "  bestowed  upon  her  by  the  warm- 
hearted Devon  women,  and  much  the  wonder  that 
coming  from  outlandish  parts  she  should  speak  English 
as  well  as  any  body.  Poor  Kate  found  it  a  good  deal 
easier  to  make  herself  understood  than  to  understand, 
for  the  Devon  dialect  is  almost  as  different  from  that 
of  London  as  the  Dutch  tongue  itself.  But  she  was 
a  cheerful,  brave  little  maid,  always  disposed  to  make 
the  best  of  every  thing  and  every  body,  and  though 
scandalized  at  the  sluttery  of  (the  housekeeping,  and 
a  little  scared  at  the  cliffs  and  the  hills  (having  never  in 
her  life  seen  any  thing  higher  than  a  church  steeple), 
yet  she  soon  made  herself  at  home,  and  was  a  wonder- 
ful help  and  comfort  to  me.  The  children  worshiped 
her  as  though  she  had  come  direct  from  Heaven,  and 
if  the  good  dames  did  not  spoil  her  digestion  with 
clotted  cream  and  honey-cakes,  and  her  mind  with 


The   Great  Storm.  321 

flattery,  'twas  more  owing  to  her  discretion  than 
theirs. 

We  passed  two  more  happy  years  in  our  quiet 
country  home — happier  years  I  am  sure  no  one  ever 
spent  any  where.  We  had,  'tis  true,  one  great  grief 
in  the  death  of  a  dear  little  maid,  who  was  sent  to 
stay  with  us  three  months,  and  then  taken  back  to  her 
home  in  the  skies.  'Twas  a  grievous  loss,  but  yet  I 
took  great  comfort  in  the  babe,  even  after  I  had  seen 
the  dear  little  body  laid  away  under  the  daisies  in  our 
pretty,  green  churchyard.  I  felt  that  she  had  been 
given  to  me — yea,  given  and  not  lent — and  that  she 
would  always  be  mine,  though  we  were  separated 
for  a  season.  'Twas  a  sweet  thought  that  one  more 
blessed  spirit  was  resting  in  Jesus,  and  that  it  was  my 
child  ;  and  I  was  able  to  take  comfort  in  it  even  when 
I  was  folding  the  clothes  she  had  not  worn  out,  and 
putting  away  the  cradle  she  would  never  need.  The 
dear  Father  comforted  me  as  one  whom  his  mother 
comforteth,  and  I  know  the  meaning  of  His  precious 
promises  better  by  far  than  I  had  ever  done  before. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1563  that  Walter  was  sum- 
moned to  London,  on  business.  That  same  distant 
relation  of  Sir  Edward  Peck  ham's  who  had  inherited 
his  property  was  dead,  and  had  left  Walter  a  consid- 
erable legacy,  which  his  son  was  ready  to  pay  over. 
Besides  there  were  some  difficulties  about  the  estate 
which  Walter's  testimony  might  help  to  settle,  and 
Sir  John  was  anxious  to  have  him  come  at  once  to 
London.  He  was  considerate  enough  to  send  a  sum  of 
money  for  expenses,  and  a  couple  of  stout,  well- 
mounted  serving  men  for  attendants  on  the  road. 

Somehow,  the  whole  scheme  of  the   journey  was 


322  Loveday^s  History. 

distasteful  to  me — not  for  any  reason  that  I  could  give, 
but  because  of  a  feeling  I  bad  tbat  trouble  would 
come  of  it ;  and  I  would  willingly  bave  foregone  tbe 
money  to  remain  quietly  and  safely  at  home.  My 
husband,  on  the  contrary,  was  delighted  with  the 
prospect  of  seeing  London  once  more,  and  mixing 
with  the  world  of  scholars  and  reformers.  It  was  no 
more  than  natural,  I  am  sure.  He  was  a  born  scholar 
and  divine,  and  he  had  been  for  a  long  time  buried 
where  he  had  little  or  no  society  of  his  own  kind. 

"  But  you  will  go  with  me,"  he  said,  as  we  were 
talking  it  over.  "  I  must  have  you  with  me." 

"  A  fine  showing  that  you  can  not  go  up  to  London 
without  your  wife,"  said  I,  though  my  heart  did  give 
a  great  leap  at  the  thought  of  seeing  my  old  friends 
again.  True,  the  Davis  family  no  longer  lived  in 
London,  having  returned  to  the  country,  but  my  dear 
mistress  lived  there.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk  had  been 
dead  some  years,  and  her  Grace  was  married  again  to 
a  Mr.  Batie,  a  gentleman  of  somewhat  obscure  fam- 
ily, but  an  admirable  scholar  and  a  very  excellent  man. 
It  did  seem  strange  to  me  that  her  Grace  should  take 
a  second  partner,  but  I  do  think  her  attachment  to  the 
Duke  was  rather  that  of  an  affectionate  daughter  to 
an  indulgent  father,  than  that  of  a  wife  to  her  hus- 
band. He  had,  as  it  were,  brought  her  up,  and  he  had 
married  her  very  young,  and  before  her  heart  had 
time  to  open.  Never  was  happier  wife,  I  am  sure  ;  but 
still  I  do  not  think  the  Duke  ever  was  to  her  what 
Mr.  Batie  was,  or  what  my  good  man  was  to  me. 

Besides  my  desire  to  see  London,  I  could  not  but  feel 
that  Walter  would  be  the  better  of  me  at  his  elbow. 
A  wife  may  reverence  her  husband  according  to  the 


The,   Great  Storm.  323 

Scripture,  as  I  am  sure  I  have  ever  done  by  mine,  and 
yet  be  conscious  of  his  little  infirmities.  I  knew 
Walter  would  not  be  so  likely  to  spend  half  his  legacy 
in  old  manuscripts  and  new  books,  and  the  rest  in 
buying  finery  for  Katherine  and  myself,  if  I  were  at 
hand,  nor  would  he  forget  half  his  engagements  and 
remember  the  other  half  wrong  if  he  had  me  to  look 
over  the  pocket-book  where  he  carefully  set  them  down, 
and  which  he  never  looked  at  afterward.  The  great 
difficulty  seemed  to  be  how  to  dispose  of  Katherine. 
I  did  not  like  to  leave  her  with  Mary  Thornton,  whose 
temper  did  not  mend  with  age,  and  who  was  always 
a  little  disposed  to  be  jealous  of  the  child.  Any  of  the 
farmers'  dames  about  would  have  been  glad  of  her  ;  but 
there  were  objections  to  that  plan  also.  Just  in  the  nick 
of  time,  however,  my  lady  came  forward  and  claimed 
Katherine  for  her  own  while  we  should  be  away. 
Kate  would  be  invaluable  to  her,  she  was  pleased  to 
say,  as  a  companion  to  herself  and  a  teacher  to  the 
elder  little  girl.  I  knew  my  lady  well  enough  to 
know  that  while  she  would  be  kind  to  the  child  she 
would  not  spoil  her,  and  so  it  was  agreed  that  Kath- 
erine should  stay  at  Stantoun  Court  during  our  ab- 
sence. Little  did  we  think  how  long  that  absence 
was  like  to  be,  or  how  many  things  were  to  happen 
before  we  saw  the  dear  maiden  again. 

At  last  the  day  of  departure  came,  and  we  set  out, 
taking  Stantoun  Court  in  our  way,  and  leaving  Kath- 
erine in  her  new  home.  My  lady  had  given  me  a 
good  horse  for  my  own  riding,  an  arrangement  far 
more  pleasant  to  me  than  being  trussed  up  on  a  pil- 
lion. The  two  servants  Sir  John  Peckham  sent  were 
staid,  sober,  middle-aged  serving-men,  real  old-fash- 


324  Loveday^s  History. 

ioned  blue-coats,  such  as  they  tell  me  are  going  out  of 
vogue  now-a-days,  when  gentlemen  must  have  their 
grooms,  their  footmen,  pages  and  what  not.  The 
time  was  just  past  the  middle  of  June.  The  weather 
was  lovely  and  the  roads  as  good  as  they  ever  are  in 
England.  We  did  not  hurry,  but  traveled  in  the  cool 
mornings  and  afternoons,  stopping  in  the  heat  of  the 
day  at  some  country  inn,  or  in  some  little  town,  two 
or  three  times  with  old  friends  of  my  husband's  set- 
tled in  quiet  country  rectories.  It  was  at  one  of  these 
last  named  places  that  we  heard  a  rumor  of  the 
young  king's  rapidly  declining  health.  "  Heaven 
help  us  !  "  said  my  husband.  "  What  will  become  of 
this  land  if  he  dies?" 

"There  maybe  better  days  in  store  for  England 
than  she  hath  ever  yet  seen  ! "  answered  our  host, 
who  was  a  dignified  clergyman.  "  My  brother,  from 
whom  I  have  most  of  my  news,  tells  me  that  there  is 
a  prospect  of  the  Lady  Jane  Grey  succeeding  to  the 
throne.  She  is,  as  every  one  says,  a  young  lady  of 
excellent  parts  and  sweet  disposition,  and  loyal  to  the 
reformed  faith  to  the  bottom  of  her  heart." 

My  husband  shook  his  head.  "  That  may  all  be,  but 
I  do  not  believe  she  will  ever  wear  the  crown.  King 
Edward's  will,  whatever  it  may  be — and  I  fancy  no 
one  knows  that — will  never  set  aside  his  father's. 
Poor  Lady  Jane  and  her  husband  are  but  puppets  in 
the  hands  of  their  ambitious  relations." 

"Ay,  and  unwilling  puppets,  some  say,"  answer- 
ed our  host.  "  Mine  excellent  friend,  Master  Roger 
Ascham,  tells  me  that  her  liking  is  all  for  retirement 
and  study,  and  that  she  would  rather  read  a  dialogue 
of  Plato  or  a  chapter  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  than 
join  in  any  gay  pastime  whatever." 


The   Great  Storm.  325 

"  Alas,  poor  young  lady  !  "  said  I.  "  And  of  what 
like  is  her  husband  ?  " 

"  A  gracious  youth  enow,  but  not  over  and  above 
wise,  unless  he  be  belied,"  answered  the  archdeacon. 
"Nevertheless,  they  are  a  most  loving  couple.  But  I 
can  not  but  fear  lest  great  trouble  should  arise.  Per- 
haps a  war  of  the  succession,  like  those  which  have 
heretofore  distracted  this  poor  kingdom.  I  know 
well  enough  what  will  happen  to  you  and  me  and  our 
likes,  Brother  Corbet,  if  the  Lady  Mary  come  to  the 
throne — and  that  will  be  to  have  our  beards  singed  an* 
we  do  not  make  up  our  minds  to  conform  !  " 

"  Think  you  so  ?  "  said  my  husband.  "  Then  will 
there  be  many  singed  beards  in  England." 

"Ay,  but  not  so  great  a  number  as  you  think.  I 
do  believe  more  than  half  of  those  who  have  used  the 
books  of  Common  Prayer  in  this  reign  will  burn 
them  in  the  next,  should  it  be  their  interest  to  do  so. 
They  are  Papists  at  heart,  and  do  but  wait  the  occa- 
sion to  throw  off  the  mask  !  " 

"  Nay,  I  think  you  are  uncharitable,"  said  my  hus- 
band. 

"May  be  so.  Mind,  I  say  not  all.  There  is  old 
Latimer  ;  he  is  of  your  kind,  and  would  be  burned  by 
inch  pieces  before  he  would  do  such  a  baseness  ;  and 
there  are  others  like  him." 

"  And  the  Archbishop?  " 

"  I  am  not  so  very  sure  of  the  Archbishop,"  said 
our  host,  slowly.  "  He  is  a  man  who  greatly  fears 
the  wrath  of  the  king.  I  did  never  like  his  sending 
away  his  lawful  wife  to  Holland  so  readily,  because 
his  late  majesty  took  up  against  the  married  clergy. 
Courtiers  are  not  the  stuff  to  make  martyrs.  Never- 


326  Lovdday'>s  History. 

theless,  if  driven  to  the  wall  he  might  die  as  bravely 
as  another." 

The  next  day  we  met  the  news  of  the  king's  death. 
(He  had  been  dead  two  or  three  days,  but  they  about 
him  concealed  the  matter  as  long  as  they  could  for 
the  better  furtherance  of  their  plans.)  In  one  town 
we  passed  through  theyjiad  already  proclaimed  Queen 
Jane,  and  the  mob  were  rejoicing  after  their  senseless 
fashion,  glad  of  any  event,  good  or  bad,  which  gave 
them  the  chance  of  eating  and  drinking.  But  I 
could  not  but  observe  many  sullen  and  discontented 
faces,  and  in  one  village  we  passed  through  we  were 
hooted  with,  "Shame  on  the  married  priest.  Go  on 
with  thy  leman,  false  priest,  and  see  what  awaits 
thee  ! » 

I  must  say  my  courage  failed,  and  I  prayed  my 
husband  to  turn  back,  or  at  least  seek  some  safe  shel- 
ter till  we  should  know  how  matters  would  turn. 
But  Walter  believed  that  his  duty  called  him  to  go 
on,  and  when  he  began  to  talk  about  duty,  I  knew  he 
had  taken  the  bit  between  his  teeth,  and  I  might  as 
well  be  silent  ;  so  I  went  forward,  but  with  a  heavy 
heart,  and  all  the  more  because  I  had  heard  from  the 
serving  men,  that  their  master  was  a  devoted  adher- 
ent of  Queen  Jane.  I  need  not,  however,  have 
minded  that.  The  Peckhams  in  general  have  a 
wonderful  knack  of  turning  up  on  the  winning  side 
just  at  the  right  moment.  My  old  friend,  Sir  Ed- 
ward, was  an  exception  to  the  rule  ;  one  always  knew 
where  to  find  him — but  in  general  they  were  a  time- 
serving race,  I  must  say. 

Well,  we  reached  London  at  last,  and  went  to  a  de- 
cent hostel  close  by  Sir  John's  town  residence.  I 


The  Great  Storm.  327 

thought  he  might  have  asked  us  to  his  house,  seeing 
we  had  come  all  that  way  on  his  errand,  but  he  did 
not ;  and  as  it  turned  out,  it  was  just  as  well.  All 
was  in  utter  confusion  at  this  time,  for  Queen  Mary 
had  been  proclaimed  in  Norwich,  and  people  were 
flocking  to  her  standard  every  day.  The  Popish 
party  raised  their  heads  more  and  more,  and  I  was 
fain  to  keep  close  within  doors,  for  I  could  not  go  out 
with  my  husband  without  being  insulted  ;  I  did  not 
even  go  to  see  my  old  mistress  though  my  heart 
yearned  toward  her,  finding  myself  so  near.  Walter 
would  fain  have  finished  the  business  that  had 
brought  him  hither,  but  Sir  John  kept  putting  him 
off  and  putting  him  off,  and  he  could  hardly  gain  an 
audience. 

So  matters  dragged  along  with  us  till  the  nine- 
teenth of  July,  when  the  Queen  Mary  was  proclaimed 
in  Cheapside  by  some  of  the  very  men  who  had  been 
most  forward  in  the  cause  of  poor  Lady  Jane.  They 
did  not  save  their  own  necks  by  thier  baseness,  that  is 
one  comfort.  It  was  the  very  day  after  this  procla- 
mation that  Sir  John  sent  for  my  husband.  I  went 
with  him,  understanding  from  the  messenger  that  he 
desired  to  see  me  also,  but  this  it  seems  was  a  mis- 
take. Nevertheless,  I  was  glad  I  did,  as  it  turned 
out.  When  we  entered  his  presence,  Sir  John  was 
sitting  in  his  great  chair,  and  near  him  was  one  whom 
I  knew  1  had  seen  before,  though  I  could  not  tell 
where,  but  he  seemed  to  bring  my  old  life  at  Peck- 
ham  Hall  before  me  in  a  moment.  Sir  John  made 
my  husband  a  slight  salutation,  and  me  none  at  all. 
His  lady  was  even  less  civil,  for  she  turned  away 
from  me  and  exchanged  a  marked  look  of  contempt 
and  disgust  with  the  priest. 


328  Loveday''s  History. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  Master  Corbet,  to  tell  you 
that  I  have  no  more  need  of  your  services,"  said  Sir 
John,  curtly.  "  This  worthy  priest,  Father  Barnaby, 
has  given  me  all  the  information  I  need  as  to  the 
matter  of  the  legacy.  I  will  attend  to  it.  Father 
Simon  is  of  opinion  that  my  respected  father  was 
weak  in  mind  when  he  made  his  will,  and  therefore  it 
will  not  stand  in  law,  but  we  will  see — we  will  see," 
he  added  pompously.  "  You  shall  have  justice  done. 
But  who  is  this  woman  you  have  brought  with  you  ?  " 
he  added,  as  though  just  then  aware  of  my  presence. 
"Your  sister?" 

"My  lawful  and  beloved  wife,  Sir  John,  as  you 
very  well  know,"  answered  Walter,  firmly,  "  whom  I 
brought  up  to  London  at  your  own  written  request,  as 
thinking  her  early  recollections  might  throw  some 
light  on  the  matter  in  hand." 

Sir  John  did  look  a  little  confused,  but  Father 
Simon  took  up  the  cudgels  for  him.  I  knew  all  about 
him  the  moment  I  heard  his  name  called. 

"  Your  wife.  I  thought  you  were  a  priest.  What 
do  you  with  a  wife  ?  " 

"The  same  as  did  St.  Peter,"  answered  Walter. 
"Take  her  with  me  on  my  journeys." 

"  Blasphemy  !  "  exclaimed  my  lady,  with  a  shud- 
der. 

"And  you,  mistress — do  I  understand  that  you 
have  the  effrontery  to  call  yourself  a  married  woman, 
after  having  been  the  professed  spouse  of  Christ?" 

"An  apostate  nun.  Worse  and  worse,"  said  my 
lady. 

"Apostate  I  can  not  be,  since  I  never  was  professed, 
as  you,  Sir  Priest,  very  well  know,"  paid  I.  "As  to 


The   Great  Storm.  329 

the  rest  I  ara  proud  to  call  myself  Walter  Corbet's 
wife,  and  the  mother  of  his  child." 

"You  are "  said  the  priest,  and  he  called  me  by 

a  vile  name  I  will  not  write  here.  Walter  resembled 
some  other  very  good-tempered  people.  He  was  like 
one  of  our  long-horned  Devon  bulls,  very  quiet  and 
even  stolid  to  a  certain  point  of  provocation,  after 
which  it  were  best  to  get  out  of  the  way.  He  walked 
up  to  Father  Simon,  and  with  one  sound  cuff  sent 
him  sprawling  and  tumbling  over  my  lady's  embroid- 
ery frame  and  into  a  basket  holding  a  slut  and  a  litter 
of  puppies.  It  was  an  ill-judged  blow  ;  I  do  not  jus- 
tify him  in  it,  and  it  had  terrible  consequences  for  us. 
The  offended  mother-dog  seized  Father  Barnaby  by 
the  ear  and  bit  him  furiously,  the  pups  meantime  all 
yelling  in  concert — the  lady  squalled  and  Sir  John 
swore,  while  a  crowd  of  serving  men  rushing  into  the 
room,  added  to  the  confusion.  How  it  all  came  about, 
I  hardly  know  myself,  but  I  presently  found  myself 
lying  on  the  street,  outside  the  door,  my  head  sup- 
ported on  the  lap  of  a  poor  woman,  who  was  fanning 
me  with  her  apron. 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  said  I,  starting  up. 
"  Where  is  my  husband  ?  " 

"  Hush,  hush,  poor  thing  !  They  will  not  let  you 
go  after  him,"  said  the  woman,  and  with  that  she  fell 
a  weeping.  "  They  have  taken  him  to  prison,  and 
serve  him  right  for  a  fool,"  said  a  queer,  cracked 
voice  beside  me.  "  Only  he  does  not  know  enough  to 
let  his  folly  make  him  a  living,  I  would  even  give  him 
my  cap  and  bauble." 

I  looked  up  and  saw  a  man  in  the  garb  of  a  fool, 
or  jester,  whom  I  had  before  remarked,  in  Sir  John's 
presence  chamber. 


330  Loveday's  History. 

"  Good  fool,"  said  I,  "  tell  me  what  they  have  done 
with  my  husband." 

"  Nay,  how  can  I  tell  ;  I  am  but  a  fool,"  he  answered, 
tossing  up  his  bauble  and  catching  it  with  many  ex- 
travagant gestures  ;  "  but  fool  as  I  am,  I  know  you 
should  not  sit  here." 

"  Harry  speaks  truth,  madam,  this  is  no  place  for 
you,"  said  one  of  the  serving  men  who  had  come  up 
with  us  from  Devon.  He  helped  me  to  my  feet,  and 
whispered  in  my  ear  :  "  Go  you  to  your  lodging,  and 
so  soon  as  I  can  I  will  bring  you  news  of  your  hus- 
band. This  woman,  who  is  mine  own  sister,  will  con- 
duct you  thither." 

There  was  no  other  counsel,  so  I  went.  Once  alone 
I  sat  down  and  strove  to  collect  my  scattered  thoughts. 
Walter  had  been  carried  to  prison — that  I  was  sure 
of — but  where  and  how  long  was  he  like  to  stay 
there  ?  I  remembered  all  I  had  heard  of  Father 
Simon's  relentless  character,  and  I  felt  that  Walter's 
chance  was  a  slender  one.  "  Oh,  had  I  but  staid  at 
home,"  was  my  thought.  "  Had  we  but  kept  quiet 
in  Devon."  It  seemed  to  me  as  though  he  had  been  pur- 
posely entrapped,  but  in  that  I  believe  I  did  Sir  John 
injustice.  It  was  no  pre-conceived  plan.  Sir  John 
had  been  for  Queen  Jane,  when  that  unhappy  lady 
seemed  like  to  succeed,  and  now  that  she  was  over- 
thrown, he  was  willing  to  save  himself  and  cover  up 
his  transgression  by  any  means  in  his  favor. 

Oh,  what  a  distracted  creature  I  was.  I  walked  up 
and  down  till  I  was  tired  and  then  threw  myself  on 
the  floor  to  walk  again  as  my  goading  thoughts  and 
fears  would  not  let  me  be  still.  At  last  tears  came  to 
my  relief  and  I  could  pray. 


The   Great  Storm.  331 

It  was  dark  when  Ned  Harris  rapped  at  my  door, 
accompanied  by  his  sister,  the  old  woman  who  had 
first  taken  pity  on  me. 

"  Well,  madam,  I  bring  you  but  cold  comfort,"  said 
he  bluntly.  "Your  husband  is  in  Newgate  prison, 
and  in  evil  case — so  I  hear  from  Harry,  who  learned 
the  same  from  Sir  John.  Have  you  any  friends  in 
this  place  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  can  go  to  unless  it  be  mine  old  mis- 
tress, the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Suffolk,"  I  answered, 
"  and  I  know  not  even  where  she  lives  or  whether  she 
is  in  town." 

"  That  we  will  find  out.  Meantime,  you  were  best 
leave  this  place  at  once.  My  good  sister  here  hath  a 
lodging  house,  though  a  humble  one,  which  she  owes 
to  her  Grace's  goodness,  and  she  will  give  you  a 
shelter  for  the  present." 

"  That  I  will,  that  I  will,  dear  madam,"  said  Dame 
Giles.  "  You  don't  remember  me,  and  no  wonder, 
but  I  mind  you  well,  as  you  used  to  go  on  the  water 
with  her  Grace.  Yes,  and  you  was  once  at  my  place 
to  ask  after  the  poor,  foreign  gentleman  her  Grace 
sent  to  lodge  with  me." 

"  But  shall  I  not  bring  trouble  upon  you,  good 
dame  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Never  fear,  madam.  I  fancy  I  am  too  small  game 
for  them  at  present.  Do  you  come  with  me  and  I 
will  make  you  as  comfortable  as  my  poor  house  will 
allow." 

"  I  care  not  for  comfort,  so  I  may  be  near  my  hus- 
band," I  answered.  "  Oh,  Harris,  do  but  get  me  news 
of  him,  and  I  will  bless  you  forever." 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  but  it  will  be  no  easy  mat- 


332  Loveday's  History. 

ter,"  said  Harris.  "  Have  you  money,  madam,  where- 
with to  discharge  your  score  ?  " 

"  It  is  paid,"  I  answered.  "  My  husband  settled  it 
this  morning." 

"  That  is  well.  Then  the  sooner  we  are  gone  the 
better." 

It  was  not  long  before  I  found  myself  in  a  small 
but  clean  little  waterside  inn,  frequented,  as  it  seemed 
by  the  better  class  of  sailors.  My  room,  though 
plain,  was  decent  and  retired,  and  I  never  left 
it.  It  was  three  or  four  days  before  Harris  got  news 
of  my  husband,  and  bad  news  it  was,  when  it  came. 
Walter  had  been  committed  to  Newgate,  among  the 
common  rabble  of  rebels,  and  upon  some  trumped-up 
charge  of  rebellion.  I  asked  if  there  were  any  chance 
of  my  seeing  him. 

"  I  fear  not,"  answered  Harris,  shaking  his  head. 
"And,  mistress,  I  would  not  have  you  seen  in  the 
street.  My  master  and  yonder  black  priest — Heaven's 
malison  on  him  and  his  like  ! — have  made  strict 
inquiry  after  you,  and  you  would  fare  ill,  did  you 
once  get  into  his  hands.  Have  you  ne'er  a  friend  to 
whom  you  can  turn  ?  " 

"I  know  of  none  unless  it  be  my  old  mistress,  the 
Dowager  Duchess  of  Suffolk,"  I  answered,  "  as  I  told 
you  before." 

"  Alas,  poor  lady,  she  is  like  enow  to  be  in  evil  case 
herself.  The  Suffolk  family  are  in  bad  odor.  You 
were  best  make  your  way  down  to  the  west  as  soon  as 
may  be.  Have  you  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  can  not  leave  town  so 
long  as  my  husband's  fate  is  in  suspense.  How  can 
I?" 


The   Great  Storm.  333 

"  'Tis  a  piteous  case,  mistress.  I  would  I  knew  how 
to  help  you,  for  you  have  been  mortal  kind  to  me. 
Ah,  well.  Bide  you  still  where  you  are,  and  we  will 
see  what  can  be  done." 

I  don't  think  I  realized  mine  own  condition  or  dan- 
ger at  all.  I  thought  only  of  one  thing — to  see  my 
husband  once  more,  and  aid  in  his  escape  if  possible. 
I  lay  awake  all  night,  and  in  the  very  first  gray  of  the 
dawn  I  stole  out  and  found  my  way  to  the  prison.  I 
would  at  any  rate  see  the  walls  which  held  my  love. 
When  I  arrived  under  those  frowning  wails,  I  found 
two  or  three  other  women  on  the  same  errand  as  my- 
self. As  I  gazed  at  the  barred  windows,  the  desire  to 
see  my  husband's  face  once  more  overmastered  every 
other  consideration,  and  I  began  to  sing  a  Dutch 
psalm,  which  we  had  used  in  our  church  at  Amster- 
dam. The  other  women  looked  at  me  with  surprise 
and  pity  in  their  faces. 

"  Poor  thing,  she  is  outlandish,  too,"  said  one,  for- 
getting for  the  moment  her  trouble  in  mine.  "  Is  it 
your  husband  you  seek,  dame  ?  " 

It  went  to  my  heart  to  refuse  her  sympathy,  but  I 
only  pressed  her  hand,  and  shook  my  head  in  token 
that  I  did  not  understand.  I  ventured  another  verse 
of  the  psalm.  Oh,  joy  !  Walter's  face  appeared  for 
a  moment  at  a  grated  casement — pale,  but  serene  as 
ever.  I  could  not  suppress  a  cry. 

"  Ah,  poor  thing,  she  sees  her  goodman,"  said  the 
kind  woman  who  had  spoken  before. 

"Wait,"  said  Walter,  and  his  face  disappeared. 
Presently  he  came  to  the  casement  again,  and  threw 
something  which  fell  at  my  feet.  It  was  a  paper 
wrapped  round  a  stone,  and  I  quickly  picked  it  up 


334  Lo cedars  History. 

and  hid  it  in  my  bosom.  I  was  not  a  minute  too  soon, 
for  at  that  moment  a  wicket  was  opened  and  a  surly 
voice  bade  us  begone  for  a  pack  of  idle  jades.  As 
the  man  spoke,  a  little  maid  of  three  or  four  sum- 
mers, slipped  under  his  arm  and  ran  toddling  into  the 
middle  of  the  street.  I  saw  what  was  coming,  and 
sprang  after  her.  A  troop  of  horsemen  were  gallop- 
ing recklessly  down  the  street.  I  snatched  her  out  of 
the  way  just  in  time,  and  threw  her,  as  I  may  say,  to 
her  father,  falling  myself  so  near  the  horses  that  one 
of  them  stepped  on  and  tore  my  gown.  I  was 
stunned  and  shaken  with  the  force  of  my  fall  and 
could  not  rise  for  the  moment.  As  I  did  so  the  turn- 
key, for  such  he  was,  came  to  rny  assistance. 

"  'Twas  a  brave  deed,  and  you  are  a  brave  wench," 
said  he.  "  Come  in  now  and  rest.  You  have  saved 
my  child  from  those  brutes  who  would  ride  over 
a  living  babe  as  soon  as  a  dead  cat.  Come  in,  come 
in,  and  my  dame  shall  get  you  a  cool  draught." 

So  there  was  a  heart  at  any  rate  under  that  bull- 
dog face.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  obey,  for  I  trem- 
bled so  I  could  hardly  stand.  The  man  set  me  a 
stool,  and  the  wife,  finding  her  child  was  not  hurt, 
bestirred  herself  to  get  me  some  refreshment.  Mean- 
time I  implored  the  turnkey  to  let  me  see  my  hus- 
band, were  it  but  for  one  moment. 

"  Who  is  your  husband  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  told  him. 

"  I  dare  not,"  said  he  gruffly.  "  'Twere  as  much  as 
my  life  is  worth." 

I  fell  a- weeping  with  that,  for  almost  the  first  time 
since  I  parted  from  Walter.  The  turnkey's  wife 
pitied  and  poor-deared  me,  and  then  whispered  eag- 


The   Great  Storm.  335 

erly  in  her  husband's  ear.  lie  shook  his  head  at  first, 
but  seemed  at  last  to  relent.  "  I  would  I  were  not  a 
fool,"  said  he,  gruffly.  "After  all,  you  risked  your 
life  in  the  midst  of  your  own  trouble  to  save  the  little 
wench  who  was  naught  to  you — well,  come  along — I 
will  give  you  five  minutes,  but  I  must  be  within  hear- 
ing—come along." 

I  did  not  say  a  word  for  fear  he  might  change  his 
mind,  but  followed  him  through  grim  passages  till  he 
came  to  a  door  which  he  unlocked  with  a  clash  of 
keys  which  seemed  to  hurt  my  ears. 

"  Here,  Master  Parson,  here  is  some  one  to  speak  to 
you  ;  but  be  short.  Come,  you  here." 

I  gathered  together  my  scattered  senses,  and  held 
them,  as  it  were,  tightly  with  both  hands.  I  saw,  as 
a  dream,  figures  lying  stretched  out  or  walking  list- 
lessly to  and  fro.  I  saw  one  disengage  himself  from 
the  crowd  and  come  toward  me,  and  in  a  moment  I 
was  in  my  husband's  arms. 

"But  what  is  this?"  said  he,  touching  my  fore- 
head, which  had  been  cut  and  bruised  by  the  fall. 

"  Nothing,"  said  I,  hastily.  "  Waste  no  time  on 
me.  Tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  Naught  in  the  world,  dear  heart,  but  pray  for  me 
and  take  care  of  yourself.  Come  not  here  again — 
they  will  set  a  trap  for  you.  Go  to  her  Grace  of  Suf- 
folk. She  will  shelter  you  for  old  sake's  sake,  and 
her  husband  is  a  wise  gentleman,  and  will  tell  you  if 
there  is  aught  possible  for  me.  If  you  ever  loved 
your  husband,  dear  heart,  obey  now  what  may  be 
his  last  command.  You  have  ever  been  a  dutiful 
wife." 

"I   will.     I  will,"  I  answered,  though   the  words 


336  Loveday's  History. 

seemed  to  choke  me.  Other  things  we  said,  too  sa- 
cred to  write  here,  and  then  the  parting  time  came. 
I  gave  my  husband  what  money  I  had  about  me,  and 
the  little  Latin  Psalter  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
carry  in  my  pocket  ever  since  I  left  Dartford.  Then 
we  bade  farewell.  I  must  not  dwell  on  the  anguish 
of  that  hour. 

The  turnkey  and  his  wife  detained  me  when  I 
would  have  gone  forth.  The  good  woman — for  good 
she  was,  I  am  sure,  though  rude  and  rough  in  man- 
ner— arranged  my  dress  and  made  me  decent  again. 

"  Now,  an*  you  will,  you  shall  go  out  with  me  to 
the  market,  and  then  you  can  easily  find  your  way 
home,"  said  she. 

I  felt  the  kindness  under  the  rough  exterior,  and 
still,  as  it  were,  holding  my  senses  together  by  main 
force,  I  followed  the  turnkey's  wife  to  the  market, 
feeling  all  the  time  like  one  in  a  bad  dream.  Pres- 
ently a  decent  old  serving-man  ran  against  me. 

"I  crave  pardon,"  said  a  familiar  voice,  hastily, 
and  then  in  a  tone  of  utmost  wonder  :  "  Can  it  be — 
surely  it  is  Mistress  Loveday,  who  used  to  wait  upon 
my  lady." 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  and  recognized  John 
Symonds. 

"  But  how  came  you  here,  in  such  a  plight  and  in 
such  company  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  tone  which  it  was 
perhaps  as  well  the  dame  did  not  hear. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,"  said  I ;  "  but,  John,  will  my 
mistress  see  me,  think  you  ?  I  am  in  deep  trouble, 
and  not  a  friend  to  help  me." 

"  I  dare  be  sworn  she  will,"  he  answered.  "  But 
where  are  you  staying  ?  " 


The   Great  Storm.  337 

I  told  him. 

"  Ay,  I  know  the  place.  Well,  Mistress  Corbet,  I 

will  come  to  see  you  after  nightfall.  The  sun  does 

not  shine  on  our  side  of  the  hedge  any  more  than  on 

yours,  but  my  lady  is  not  any  lady  if  she  find  not 
some  way  to  help  you." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE      WANDERERS. 

WAS  utterly  worn  out  when  I  reached  Dame 
Giles's  little  hostel.  She  had  never  missed 
me  it  seemed,  and  I  slipped  quietly  into 
mine  own  room.  I  felt  that  I  had  not  one  atom  of 
endurance  left,  and  throwing  myself  on  the  bed,  I  fell, 
I  suppose,  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  I  did  not 
wake  till  noon.  Then  I  arose,  bathed  my  face,  and 
put  myself  into  decent  trim.  As  I  was  mending  my 
tattered  gown,  Dame  Giles  entered  the  room.  I  made 
her  sit  down  by  me,  and  told  her  where  I  had  been. 
She  shook  her  head  disapprovingly. 

"  'Twas  a  great  risk,  and  yet  I  can  not  blame  you," 
said  she  ;  "  but  how  did  you  bruise  your  face  so 
sadly  ?  " 

I  told  her  my  adventure  with  the  child. 

"  'Twas  a  great  deal  to  do  for  a  child  no  ways  akin 
to  you,"  said  she  ;  "  but  I  dare  to  say  you  never 
thought  of  that." 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  I  answered.  "  Since  mine  own 
babe  was  given  me,  I  feel  that  all  children  are  akin  to 
me,  for  her  sweet  sake.  But  now  that  I  am  decent 
once  more,  I  will  finish  your  ruffle  while  I  have  time, 


Tke    Wanderers.  339 

since  one  can  not  tell  from  one  hour  to  another  what 
will  happen,  or  would  you  rather  I  made  some  more 
cakes,  that  you  may  be  sure  you  understand  the  con- 
fection ? "  For  I  had  learned  in  Holland  to  make 
certain  light  sweet-cakes,  which,  boiled  in  hot  lard, 
were  both  toothsome  and  wholesome,  and  I  had  been 
practicing  my  skill  for  the  benefit  of  the  good  woman, 
my  hostess. 

Dame  Giles  looked  at  me  in  wonder,  and  indeed  I 
could  not  but  wonder  at  myself.  I  seemed  somehow 
so  strangely  held  up  above  my  sorrow  and  care.  The 
bewilderment  of  my  senses  was  all  gone — I  could 
think  calmly  as  ever  in  my  life,  and  I  was  conscious 
of  a  kind  of  calmness  and  serenity — of  a  trust  in  my 
Heavenly  Father,  and  a  confidence  in  His  mercy  such 
as  I  had  never  felt  before,  and  which  came  not  from 
myself,  I  am  sure.  I  was  able,  while  giving  due  at- 
tention to  what  I  was  about,  to  look  beyond  all 
earthly  things,  and  by  faith  to  behold  that  shore 
where  are  no  more  griefs,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying, 
because  the  former  things  are  passed  away.  I  knew 
that  I  had  seen  my  husband  probably  for  the  last 
time  on  earth,  unless  I  were  allowed  one  last  embrace 
when  he  was  led  forth  to  the  stake  or  the  gallows,  but 
I  felt  that  I  could  even  give  him  up  if  called  to  do  so, 
knowing  that  our  parting  would  be  but  for  a  time. 
It  is,  I  believe,  only  in  circumstances  of  great  trial 
that  this  state  of  mind  comes  to  pass.  It  is  the 
Lamb's  mystical  gift  to  His  own — the  white  stone 
wherein  is  a  name  written  which  no  one  knows  but  he 
who  receives  it. 

That  night,  after  dark,  John  Symonds  came  to  con- 
duct me  to  his  mistress's  presence.  I  learned,  during 


340  Loveday^s  History. 

the  walk,  that  he  had  followed  his  lady's  fortunes  in 
her  second  marriage,  and  that  Mistress  Curtis  was 
still  my  lady's  manager  and  housekeeper,  though 
growing  old.  My  mistress  received  me  with  more 
than  her  old  kindness.  She  was  lovely  as  ever,  and 
even  more  so,  for  her  face  had  gained  in  expression 
and  in  thought.  She  presented  me  to  her  husband,  a 
fine-looking,  sober  gentleman  he  was  no  doubt,  and 
as  good  as  the  day  was  long.  But  how  she  could 
ever  take  him  into  the  Duke's  place — however,  that 
was  no  business  of  mine.  I  am  sure  he  was  ever  most 
kind  to  me,  and  I  should  be  an  ingrate  not  to  own 
what  I  owe  to  him. 

"  Mistress  Corbet  is  come  in  good  time,  my  love, 
since  you  needed  a  waiting  gentlewoman,"  said  he. 
"  You  will  be  better  pleased  with  her  than  with  a 
stranger,  specially  in  these  troublous  times  when  one 
knows  not  whom  to  trust." 

"  But  the  poor  thing  is  in  great  trouble  about  her 
husband,  Mr.  Batie,"  said  my  mistress.  "  Can  we  do 
nothing  for  her  ?  " 

"  We  will  consider  of  that."  So  saying,  Mr.  Batie 
would  have  me  sit  down  and  tell  him  the  whole  story. 
He  shook  his  head  when  I  had  finished. 

"  'Tis  a  sad  case,  and  I  know  not  what  to  do,"  said 
he.  "  I  know  Sir  John  well." 

"Ay,  he  would  betray  his  best  friend  for  a  groat, 
and  sell  his  own  soul  for  a  rose  noble  !  "  said  my 
mistress.  "  I  dare  say  it  was  all  a  made  up  plot  to 
get  out  of  the  payment  of  your  husband's  legacy.  It 
would  be  like  him." 

Mr.  Batie  looked  a  little  shocked  at  this  sally.  It 
was  plain  my  mistress  was  not  greatly  changed,  after 
all. 


T/ie    Wanderers.  341 

"We  are  iu  evil  case,  and  may  have  to  fly  any 
day,"  said  Mr.  Batie.  "  Gardiner  is  great  at  court 
once  more,  and  he  hath — I  know  not  why — a  venem- 
ous  hatred  to  my  wife." 

I  could  well  guess  why,  knowing  how  she  used  to 
laugh  at  him. 

"  But  you  shall  have  a  shelter  while  we  have  one 
ourselves,"  continued  Mr.  Batie,  quickly,  "  and  I  will 
inquire  about  your  husband,  and  befriend  him  if  pos- 
sible, that  you  may  be  sure." 

But,  alas,  it  was  not  possible,  nor  could  I  ever  suc- 
ceed in  hearing  from  him  again.  I  remained  in  at- 
tendance upon  my  mistress,  who  was  as  kind  and 
considerate  as  any  one  could  be.  All  the  change  in 
her  was  for  the  better.  The  death  of  her  husband 
and  her  two  little  sons,  had  brought  her  to  think  more 
seriously  than  she  used,  and  made  real  to  her  the 
things  which  were  unseen  and  eternal.  We  used  to 
take  sweet  counsel  together  over  the  Scriptures  I  read 
to  her.  (Already  the  English  Bible  was  a  proscribed 
book,  and  the  Prayer  Book  declared  an  abomination.) 
I  could  see  plainly  that  while  she  was  ready,  if  she 
could,  to  •  flee  from  persecution,  as  indeed  she  had 
Scripture  warrant,  she  would,  if  need  were,  die  at  the 
stake  as  bravely  as  Mistress  Askew  herself. 

I  had  been  with  my  mistress  in  her  house  at 
Barbican  some  two  weeks.  The  weather  was  very 
hot,  and  we  began  to  hear  of  fevers  among  the  pris- 
oners in  the  crowded  jails,  but  I  could  not  learn  that 
there  had  been  any  cases  in  Newgate.  One  evening, 
however,  John  Symonds  called  me  aside  as  I  was 
passing  through  the  hall,  and  told  me  there  was  one 
to  speak  with  me  from  the  prison,  who  had  a  token 


342  Loveday's  History. 

from  my  husband.  There  was  a  strange  sound  of 
pity  in  his  voice  as  I  now  remember,  but  I  did  not 
think  of  it  at  the  time.  I  followed  him  eagerly  to  a 
little  room  on  the  ground  floor,  and  there  sat  the  turn- 
key's wife,  whose  child  I  had  saved.  She  spoke  not  a 
word,  but  with  tears  running  down  her  rough  face, 
she  held  out  to  me  a  little  book.  Mechanically  I  took 
and  opened  it.  It  was  my  own  little  Latin  Psalter, 
which  I  had  given  to  Walter  at  our  sad  parting  in  the 
prison.  On  the  fly  leaf  was  traced  with  a  trembling 
hand,  "  Farewell,  dear  heart,  to  meet  above." 

"They  have  killed  him  then,"  said  I,  as  calmly  as 
though  speaking  of  an  indifferent  person. 

"  Nay,  madam  ;  'twas  the  fever.  He  gave  me  that 
token  for  you,  and  I  promised  to  put  it  into  your  own 
hand." 

«  When  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Only  to  day." 

I  heard  no  more,  for  sight  and  sense  failed  me,  and 
when  they  carried  me  to  my  room,  they  thought  I  had 
gone  to  join  my  husband. 

I  was  like  one  turned  to  stone  for  a  few  days,  un- 
able to  think,  almost  to  feel,  and  only  saving  to  my- 
self again  and  again,  "  My  husband  is  dead.  My 
husband  is  dead."  I  know  not  how  long  this  state 
lasted,  but  it  was  Mistress  Curtis  who  roused  me  from 
it.  She  came  to  my  room,  and  sitting  down  by  my 
side,  she  took  my  hand,  saying  in  her  crisp,  kindly, 
imperative  tone  : 

"  Loveday,  listen  to  me.  Will  you  help  to  save 
your  mistress  from  the  fate  of  your  husband  ?  " 

The  words  penetrated  to  my  benumbed  brain,  and 
found  ap  answer  there.  I  turned  my  face  inquiringly 


Tfie    Wanderers.  343 

toward  her.     She  repeated  her  question,  with  a  dif- 
ference. 

"Will  you  risk  your  life  to  save  your  mistress  from 
the  fate  of  your  husband  ? }> 

"  Yes  !  "  I  answered,  rousing  myself  all  at  once. 
"  What  is  life  to  me  ?  " 

'"A  means  whereby  you  may  serve  God  and  his 
church,"  answered  Mistress  Curtis,  solemnly.  "  Can 
you  collect  your  wits  and  listen  to  me  ?  " 

I  felt  once  more  come  over  me  that  strange  feeling 
of  peace  and  strength  which  had  been  given  me  be- 
fore. "  I  will  do  any  thing  for  my  mistress,"  I  said. 

"  Then  listen.  You  know  Gardiner  is  our  lady's 
implacable  enemy.  Already  he  threatens  her  with  a 
strict  examination,  which  can  have  but  one  end,  for 
she  will  never  deny  her  faith.  JVfaster  Batie  hath 
already  gone  abroad,  leaving  us  instructions  what  to 
do.  This  very  night,  if  at  all,  my  lady  must  make 
her  escape  to  meet  her  husband,  at  a  little  town  in  the 
Dutchy  of  Cleves.  You  can  be  of  the  greatest  use  to 
us,  as  you  can  speak  both  Dutch  and  Latin,  and  per- 
haps, French  also — " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  I  can  speak  French  well, 
and  can  make  a  shift  to  express  myself  in  Spanish,  if 
need."  (So  I  could,  for  having  always  a  fancy  for 
learning  languages,  I  had  picked  up  a  little  Spanish 
from  a  lady  in  Rotterdam.)  "  I  see  what  you  would 
have,  and  I  am  ready.  Whom  does  my  mistress  take 
in  her  company  ?  " 

"  Why,  our  two  selves  and  John  Symonds.  Then 
we  may  depend  upon  you,  my  dear,  faithful,  afflicted 
child?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered.     "  I  have  no   more   place   in 


344  Loveday's  History. 

these  parts,"  and  with  that  I  fell  a- weeping,  and  my 
kind  friend  wept  with  me.  We  could  not  indulge  our 
tears  very  long,  however.  There  was  too  much  to  be 
done.  My  lady  urofessed  to  be  ill  at  ease,  and  kept 
her  chamber,  and  Mistress  Curtis  threw  out  vague 
hints  of  the  sweating  sickness,  and  kept  all  the  maids 
at  a  distance.  All  that  day  I  worked  busily  enough, 
packing  my  lady's  most  portable  jewels  in  the  smallest 
compass,  and  curiously  reminded  of  the  time  when  1 
prepared  mine  own  for  the  flight  to  the  old  hall.  I 
carried  only  bare  necessary  clothes  for  myself,  besides 
my  Bible  and  Psalter,  and  a  little  book  of  prayers, 
which  had  been  Walter's. 

There  was  some  grand  show  going  on,  I  forget  what 
it  was,  but  something  connected  with  the  new  queen's 
doings.  Already  the  mass  was  being  sung  every 
where.  Gardiner  and  his  companions  were  high  in 
court  favor,  and  poor  Archbishop  Cranmer,  to  whose 
gentle  intercessions  with  her  father,  the  queen  had 
owed  her  life,  was  disgraced  and  confined.  The  Popish 
party  now  held  their  heads  high,  ay,  and  the  highest 
were  those  who  had  made  the  greatest  show  of  con- 
forming in  King  Edward's  days,  and  been  the  most 
ready  to  truckle  to  the  humors  of  King  Iltnry.  Such 
was  Gardiner  himself,  who  made  himself  so  con- 
spicuous in  putting  down  the  religious  houses,  and  his 
bulldog,  Bonner. 

As  I  said,  there  was  a  great  show,  and  all  the  serv- 
ants had  leave  to  go  and  see  it,  save  two  or  three 
whom  we  could  trust.  As  soon  as  it  was  dark  and  all 
the  house  deserted,  we  put  on  our  mantles  and  muf- 
flers, and  slipping  out  of  the  back  entrance,  hastened 
clown  to  the  river,  where  John  Symonds  had  a  boat  in 


The,    Wanderers.  345 

waiting.  It  was  a  dark  night,  and  somewhat  rough, 
which  was  all  the  better  for  our  purpose.  Luckily  we 
were  all  good  sailors.  We  dropped  down  the  river 
with  the  tide,  and  the  morning  found  us  at  Gravesend, 
whence  we  purposed  to  embark.  We  staid  there  in 
great  retirement  and  great  anxiety  for  some  days, 
lodging  with  the  wife  of  our  vessel's  master,  a  woman 
of  great  goodness  and  charity,  who  gave  us  the  best 
her  house  afforded.  I  don't  think  my  mistress  minded 
roughing  it  in  the  least — not  half  as  much  as  Mistress 
Curtis  did  for  her.  It  was  an  anxious  time,  for  though 
my  mistress  was  well,  she  was  just  in  that  state  of 
health  when  one  never  knows  what  will  happen  next, 
and  as  for  any  prudence  in  taking  care  of  herself,  it 
was  not  in  her.  She  was  as  pleased  as  a  child  with 
seeing  a  way  of  life  so  unlike  what  she  was  used  to. 
She  was  never  tired  of  playing  with  the  children,  and 
must  needs  take  the  broom  in  her  hand  to  see  what 
sweeping  was  like,  and  so  on,  till  Mistress  Curtis  lost 
patience  and  scolded  her  roundly,  telling  her  that  she 
was  risking  all  our  lives  as  well  as  her  own,  and  bring- 
ing our  kind  hostess  into  danger.  She  pouted  a  little, 
but  her  own  sweet  nature  soon  got  the  upper  hand, 
and  she  confessed  that  Curtis  was  right,  and  promised 
amendment.  As  for  myself,  all  plans  were  alike  to 
me.  I  knew  my  dear  Katherine  was  safe  in  good 
hands.  I  had  no  ties — no,  not  even  my  husband's 
grave,  for  no  one  knew  where  he  was  buried,  and  my 
only  thought  now  was  when  I  should  rejoin  him,  and 
meantime  how  I  could  best  serve  my  dear  mistress. 

Well,  the  vessel  came  at  last,  and  we  embarked  for 
Rotterdam,  from  which  place  we  were  to  make  our 
way  as  quickly  as  might  be  to  Saulin,  a  little  retired 


346  Lovedatfs  History. 

town  in  the  Dutchy  of  Cleves,  where  Master  Batie 
had  appointed  to  meet  us.  I  do  think  I  am  a  very 
Jonah  on  shipboard.  Never  but  once  did  I  cross  the 
seas  without  meeting  a  storm.  We  had  a  tremendous 
one  this  time,  and  our  master  was  obliged  to  put  back 
and  take  shelter  for  a  day  or  two  at  Harwich.  Our 
quarters  were  wretched  enough,  especially  as  our 
hatches  were  fastened  down  half  the  time.  Mistress 
Curtis  was  sick  in  her  berth  almost  all  the  way,  though 
she  called  herself  a  good  sailor,  and  old  John  Symonds 
was  not  much  better,  but  my  mistress  was  well  and 
cheerful,  making  nothing  of  all  the  inconveniences  of 
our  situation,  and  waiting  on  herself  when  I  had 
my  hands  full  with  poor  Mistress  Curtis,  who  was  sure 
she  was  going  to  die,  and  wept  the  next  moment  be- 
cause her  lady's  meal  was  served  in  a  cracked  yellow 
pudding  basin,  without  so  much  as  a  napkin.  Never 
was  a  better  woman,  or  one  more  great  in  emergency  ; 
but  she  was  lady  in  wait;ng  to  the  backbone^  and  cere- 
mony and  form  had  become  as  her  life-blood.  She 
felt  a  great  deal  worse  than  the  Duchess,  who  indeed 
did  not  care  at  all. 

We  reached  Rotterdam  at  last,  a  dirty,  weary, 
draggled  set.  I  was  glad  that,  according  to  Master 
Batie's  orders,  we  were  to  make  no  stay  there,  but  to 
push  on  at  once  to  our  destination.  I  dreaded  seeing 
the  place  where  I  had  been  so  happy,  and,  above  all, 
I  could  not  endure  that  any  one  should  speak  to  me 
about  Walter.  'Twas  a  morbid,  unhealthy  state  of 
mind,  no  doubt,  and  I  got  over  it  after  a  time. 

We  pushed  on  by  boat  as  far  as  we  could,  and  then 
by  wagon  and  on  horseback,  and  sometimes  on  foot, 
till  we  reached  the  city  of  Cleves.  The  very  first  per- 


The   Wanderers.  347 

son  we  saw  in  the  twilight,  as  we  came  to  the  city 
gate,  was  Master  Batie  himself.  He  had  come  that 
far  to  meet  us,  and  had  provided  lodgings  for  us  in  a 
decent  little  inn  just  without  the  gate.  No  sooner  did 
my  mistress  reach  this  place  of  rest  and  safety  than 
she  broke  down  utterly,  and  went  into  a  fit  of  the 
mother,  which  frightened  even  Mistress  Curtis.  It 
was  well  I  could  speak  Dutch,  for  the  mistress  of  the 
house  was  a  Holland  woman,  and  not  a  little  scared  at 
the  condition  of  her  guest. 

"  Is  your  lady  gone  mad,  think  you  ?  "  she  asked  of 
me. 

"Not  so,"  I  answered.  "She  is  but  tired  and  over- 
wrought, and  the  joy  of  seeing  her  husband  unex- 
pectedly was  too  much  for  her.  You  can  see  yourself 
that  she  is  in  no  fit  state  to  travel.  She  will  be  better 
directly." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  she,  with  a  troubled  face.  "  I  fear 
lest  she  may  bring  the  priest  down  on  us  ;  they  look 
so  keenly  after  every  case  of  sickness — the  vultures 
that  they  are.  Alack,  what  have  I  said." 

"  The  truth,"  said  I,  bitterly.  "  Vultures,  and  kites, 
and  ravening  wolves,  if  you  will." 

The  hostess  looked  relieved. 

"  One  never  knows  to  whom  one  is  speaking  in 
these  days,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  would  the  lady  were 
quiet." 

I  made  my  way  into  the  room,  where  Mistress  Cur- 
tis was  fussing  over  my  lady,  and  Mastm*  Batie  was 
like  one  distracted,  as  men  always  are  at  such  times. 
I  saw  something  was  needed  beside  pity. 

"  Madam,  listen  to  me,"  said  I.  "  You  are  putting 
us  all  in  peril  by  giving  way  and  crying  out  so.  The 


348  Loveday's  History. 

hostess  fears  lest  your  screams  should  bring  us  un- 
welcome visitors.  Drink  this." 

She  pulled  herself  up  directly,  and  drank  the  little 
glass  of  strong  spirit  and  water  I  held  to  her  lips.  It 
was  what  we  call  schnapps  in  Holland,  and  the  flavor 
is  detestable  enough  to  bring  a  dead  man  to  life  if  he 
could  but  taste  it. 

"  Horrible,"  said  she,  making  a  face  like  a  child  tak- 
ing medicine.  "  There,  I  will  be  good.  Forgive  me, 
dear  Loveday.  Every  one  is  not  so  strong  as  you 
are." 

"  There,  now,  you  are  quite  yourself,"  said  I,  "  and 
you  will  be  better  still  when  you  have  had  your  sup- 
per. Shall  I  order  it,  Master  Batie  ?  " 

"  If  you  will,"  he  answered,  looking  immensely  re- 
lieved, for  he  could  not  speak  either  Dutch  or  French, 
and  his  Latin  was  not  of  much  use  here.  So  I  went 
out  and  took  counsel  with  the  landlady,  who  was  a 
neat,  clever  housewife  from  Middleburg.  She  was 
ready  to  run  her  feet  off  when  she  found  I  had  been 
there,  and  knew  some  of  her  friends,  at  least  by  name. 
She  got  us  the  best  her  house  afforded.  Mistress  Cur- 
tis made  a  sad  face  at  the  soup,  but  she  liked  the 
bread  and  the  rich  milk,  and  thick  cream,  and  the 
golden  butter,  so  sweet  and  hard  as  I  think  no  one 
but  a  Dutch  woman  can  make  it.  My  mistress  was 
quite  herself  again,  laughing  as  she  told  her  husband 
of  all  the  odd  mischances  of  our  voyage.  But  she 
was  ever  light-hearted  in  our  greatest  straits. 

"  And  now  are  we  safe,  I  trust,"  said  she.  "  I  long 
to  be  at  rest,  even  if  only  for  the  sake  of  these  faith- 
ful women  and  honest  John  Symonds." 

"Nay,  trouble  not  for  me,  madam  ;  I  shall  do  well 


The   Wanderers.  349 

enough  any  where,"  said  old  John,  as  she  turned  to 
him.  "  Only  I  marvel  why  these  people  can  not  speak 
like  Christians,  so  a  man  could  understand  them." 

My  lady  laughed,  while  Master  Batie  said,  in  his 
grave  way  :  "  Nay,  John,  there  are  many  good  Chris- 
tians in  the  world  who  do  not  speak  English.  As  to 
our  being  in  safety,  I  hope  we  are  so  at  least  for  the 
present.  We  will  go  to-morrow  to  Saulin,  a  small 
town,  where  I  have  hired  a  house  with  its  furniture, 
and  where  we  may,  I  trust,  find  a  refuge  till  this 
tyranny  be  overpast.  But  it  will  behoove  us  to  live 
quiet  and  retired,  and  to  be  very  prudent." 

"  Perhaps,  then,  it  is  as  well  for  us  that  nobody  but 
Loveday  can  speak  Dutch,"  observed  my  mistress. 
"  As  for  me,  I  can  read  French  well  enough,  but  my 
accent  is  incurably  English." 

Well,  we  removed  to  Saulin  next  day,  and  took  up 
our  abode  in  our  own  hired  house — not  a  spacious  one 
by  any  means,  but  neat  and  comfortable.  It  was  an 
odd  little  town,  once  a  place  of  some  importance,  but 
old  and  decaying.  There  were  no  English  in  the 
place  but  ourselves,  and  one  other  family — that  of  a 
gentleman  named  Giggs,  who  had  fled  from  England 
on  some  political  ground,  and  had  lived  in  this  place 
ever  since.  The  wife  and  daughter  were  well  enough 
— sober,  plodding  women,  much  given  to  fine  spinning 
and  embroidery — just  the  women  who  will  sit  stitch- 
ing at  a  counterpane  or  hanging,  from  year's  end  to 
year's  end,  with  no  more  change  than  from  blue  silk  to 
red  cloth,  or  from  the  history  of  King  Arthur  to 
Moses  in  the  bulrushes.  Withal  they  were  kindly 
souls,  and  would  even  neglect  their  beloved  tapestry 
to  help  some  poor  woman  in  trouble.  But  the  husband 


350  Loveday^s  History. 

I  liked  not  at  all.  He  was  a  busybody  in  other  men's 
matters — with  a  mighty  conceit  of  his  own  knowl- 
edge of  state  craft,  as  he  called  it — in  short,  just 
the  man  to  be  made  a  spy  and  a  pump  of,  all 
the  time  he  was  fancying  himself  as  secret  as  the 
grave.  Of  course  he  was  bound  to  find  out  all  about 
us.  He  tried  in  vain  to  pump  John  Symonds,  who 
was  always  afflicted  with  deafness  when  it  did  not 
suit  him  to  hear,  and  whose  tongue  was  not  to  be  un- 
locked even  by  beer.  Then  he  tried  Mr.  Batie  him- 
self, but  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  extract  a  secret 
from  the  crypt  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  At  last  he 
took  himself  off,  on  some  secret  mission,  he  said,  and 
we  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  him.  But  we  were  not 
done  with  him  yet. 

The  time  went  on  to  November,  and  we  were  fallen 
into  a  very  quiet,  orderly  way  of  living,  as,  indeed, 
every  thing  was  orderly  where  Mr.  Batie  was.  He 
was  a  wonderful  grave,  staid  man,  loving  all  sorts 
of  head-breaking,  mathematical  studies,  and  caring 
little  or  nothing  for  the  music  and  poetry  which  his 
wife  loved.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  slow  to  take  a  joke, 
or  one  who  enjoyed  it  more  when  he  did  understand 
it.  But  he  was  a  pleasant  gentleman  to  live  with. 
His  temper  was  perfect,  and  he  was  faithfulness  itself. 
If  Mr.  Batie  promised  to  do  a  thing,  'twas  as  sure  to 
be  done  as  the  sun  to  rise,  unless  something  made 
the  fulfillment  downright  impossible.  He  always  did 
seem  to  me  a  little  like  a  schoolmaster,  he  was  so  fond 
of  setting  one  right  and  giving  little  bits  of  informa- 
tion. All  the  poetry  and  enthusiasm  in  him  was 
bestowed  ^K  his  religion.  I  never  saw  one,  not  even 
my  Walter,  to  whom  the  other  world  seemed  at  all 


The    Wanderers.  351 

times  so  near,  and  when  he  read  a  story  in  the  Bible 
and  commented  thereon,  he  made  you  see  the  very 
place  and  people.  He  had  been  in  the  Holy  Land, 
where,  I  suppose,  things  have  not  changed  a  great 
deal  since  our  Lord's  time,  and  when  he  told  us  of 
Bethlehem  and  of  Nazareth,  he  fairly  carried  us  into 
the  carpenter's  shop  and  the  stable. 

'Twas  he  who  first  won  me  to  talk  of  my  husband, 
by  telling  me  how  he  had  met  him  at  Suffolk  house. 
It  was  a  great  relief,  once  I  brought  my  mind  to  it, 
and  his  wise,  gentle  counsels  and  prayers  did  a  great 
deal  toward  dispelling  the  dull  cloud  which  seemed 
to  settle  down  upon  me  after  the  immediate  need  for 
action  was  past.  I  found  comfort  once  more  in  devo- 
tion, and  began  to  take  up  some  of  my  old  pursuits. 
My  dear  lady  liked  me  to  read  and  sing  to  her,  and 
she  needed  something  to  divert  her,  for  she  was  far 
from  well.  Mistress  Giggs'  youngest  daughter, 
Amy,  had  fallen  into  a  rapid  consumption — a  waste, 
as  we  call  it  in  these  parts.  Her  mother,  though  she 
loved  the  child  tenderly,  was  no  great  things  of  a 
nurse,  and  poor  little  Amy  liked  me  about  her.  My 
mistress,  ever  self -forgetful,  would  have  me  do  what  I 
could  for  the  child,  and  Mr.  Batie  often  visited  and 
prayed  by  her.  The  women  were  of  the  Reformed 
persuasion.  As  for  Mr.  Giggs,  his  religion  varied 
with  the  company  lie  kept. 

It  was  now  the  end  of  November,  and  we  were 
looking  for  my  lady's  trial  to  come  on  any  day.  The 
nights  were  long  and  dark,  and  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  snow,  but  it  was  not  very  cold.  Mr.  Batie 
had  been  away  for  a  few  days,  and  we  were  anxious 
for  his  return.  Mr.  Giggs  had  come  home  and  had 


352  Loveday^s  History. 

been  to  see  us  that  very  afternoon  to  tell  us  how  he 
had  been  made  much  of  at  the  court  of  the  Prince 
Bishop  of  Cleves  ;  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  whether 
the  man  were  more  unfit  for  a  prince  or  a  bishop.  In 
his  vanity  he  let  out  perhaps  more  than  he  meant,  as 
he  told  us  how  intimate  he  had  been  with  the  bishop's 
chief-councilor,  a  Dominican  priest,  and  what  fail- 
promises  had  been  made  him  of  places  at  court,  and 
how  he  should  be  able  to  serve  Mr.  Batie. 

"  What  a  popinjay  the  man  is  !  "  said  Mistress  Cur- 
tis, when  he  was  gone. 

"  I  hope  he  is  no  worse,"  said  I.  It  had  fallen  to 
our  lot  to  entertain  him  as  usual,  my  mistress  being 
ill  at  ease,  and  having  besides  a  great  dislike  to  him. 
"  I  hope  he  is  not  the  pilot  fish  I  have  heard  the  mar- 
iners tell  of,  which  guides  the  shark  to  its  prey. " 

"  What  can  you  mean  ? "  asked  Mistress  Curtis. 
Before  I  had  time  to  answer  the  door  opened  quickly, 
and  Bessy  Giggs  came  in. 

"  Has  Mr.  Batie  come  home  ?  "  she  asked,  without 
any  preface,  and  with  none  of  her  usual  shyness. 

"  Not  yet  ?  "  answered  Mistress  Curtis. 

"  What  is  it,  Bessy  ?  "  I  asked.  "What  has  hap- 
pened ?  Is  Amy  worse  ?  " 

"  Yes— no.  It  is  not  that !  "  she  answered.  "  Oh, 
I  would  Mr.  Batie  were  at  home." 

"  Here  I  am  !  "  said  Mr.  Batie's  calm  voice,  as  he 
entered  in  his  usual  quiet  way.  "What  is  it, 
Bessy?" 

"  1  know  not  if  it  is  any  thing  !  "  she  answered  ; 
«  but —  My  father  has  been  at  court,  in  the  hands 
of  the  bishop's  confessor,  and  a  man  has  come  back 
with  him  whose  looks  I  like  not.  You  know  my 


The    Wanderers.  353 

father.  He  thinks  he  is  so  secret,  and  a  child  can 
make  him  tell  all  he  knows  and  more." 

"  Ay,  I  understand  ! "  said  Mr.  Batie,  composedly. 
"  I  had  wind  of  this  before.  Go  home,  my  child,  and 
give  no  hint  of  having  been  here.  I  know  you  can 
be  discreet." 

Bessy  went  away  looking  greatly  relieved,  for  she 
had  unbounded  faith  in  Mr.  Batie's  wisdom. 

"  My  life  for  hers  !  "  I  answered.  "  Bessy  is  not 
bright,  but  she  is  good  all  through." 

"  Give  me  goodness  before  brightness,  and  faith  be- 
fore all  things,"  said  Mr.  Batie.  (N.  B.  He  would 
have  stopped  to  make  a  moral  if  he  had  seen  a  tiger 
just  ready  to  spring  on  him.)  Curtis,  how  is  your 
mistress  ?  " 

"  Well  as  one  can  expect,  sir,  all  things  considered," 
answered  Mistress  Curtis.  "  She  went  to  her  room, 
but  I  think  it  was  but  to  avoid  Mr.  Giggs." 

"Ay,  we  must  avoid  him  to  purpose,"  said  Mr. 
Batie.  "The  chattering  magpie  hath  brought  the 
bishop's  confessor  down  upon  us.  His  Grace  being 
taken  with  a  great  zeal  for  the  purity  of  religion  in 
his  diocese,  is  determined  that  all  who  will  not  con- 
form must  suffer  the  penalty,  and  all  English  fugi- 
tives are  the  special  objects  of  his  wrath,  out  of 
compliment  to  our  gracious  queen's  consort,  Philip  of 
Spain,  I  presume." 

"  Philip  of  Spain  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Hath  she  really 
married  King  Philip  ?  Well,  if  the  English  bear  that !  " 

"  I  begin  to  think  the  English  will  bear  any  thing,  so 
they  have  beer  enow  ! "  said  Master  Batie  bitterly. 
"  But  we  must  waste  no  time  talking  politics  ;  we 
must  make  our  escape  to  Wesel  this  very  night," 


354  Loveday's  History. 

"  Impossible,  sir  ! "  exclaimed  Mistress  Curtis. 
"  Think  of  my  mistress  and  her  condition.  How 
would  she  bear  the  shaking  of  a  litter  or  a  horse  ?"  • 

"  She  will  not  have  to  bear  them  !  "  answered  Mr. 
Batie,  more  curtly  than  was  his  wont.  "  I  dare  not 
risk  the  hiring  of  either.  We  must  set  out  as  soon  as 
it  is  fairly  dark,  and  make  our  way  on  foot  to 
Wesel." 

Mrs.  Curtis  looked  at  him  as  if  she  thought  him  mad. 
"  On  foot  and  to-night  ! "  she  repeated.  "  My  lady 
will  perish  in  the  snow." 

"  Better  the  snow  and  the  sky  than  the  rack  and 
flame  !  "  answered  Mr.  Batie.  "  Loveday  have  you 
your  wits  about  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ! "  I  answered. 

"Then  listen,  both  of  you.  We  must  have  our  sup- 
per as  usual,  and  keep  up  our  fire  and  lights.  Then 
at  eight  o'clock  when  all  is  still,  we  must  steal 
out  as  quietly  as  possible  by  the  back  garden-gate 
and  make  the  best  of  our  way  to  Wesel.  The  gate- 
keeper is  my  friend  and  will  allow  us  to  go  forth.  I 
do  not  think  our  enemies  will  make  any  move  before 
morning,  and  by  that  time  we  shall  be  out  of  their 
reach.  Hasten  and  have  all  needful  things  ready, 
but  make  no  bustle.  Where  is  Annette  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  her  sister's  wedding,  by  good  luck." 

"  So  much  the  better,  though  you  should  not  call  it 
luck"  said  Mr.  Batie.  I  had  much  to  do  not  to  laugh. 
"I  will  myself  prepare  your  mistress.  Ah,  here  she 
comes.  My  sweet  life,  I  have  heavy  news  for 
you." 

My  mistress  took  the  news  very  coolly.  Indeed,  she 
was  not  half  as  much  excited  as  Mistress  Curtis, 


The   Wanderers.  355 

and  laughed  at  her  fears  that  the  walk  would  hurt 
her. 

"  But  shall  we  be  safe  in  Wesel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  'Tis  one  of  the  Hanse  League 
towns,  wholly  independent  of  his  spiritual  lordship, 
and  the  sturdy  burghers  like  him  not  well  enough  to 
do  him  a  pleasure  by  giving  a  fugitive  to  his  clutches. 
I  would  we  had  gone  there  at  first." 

"  You  acted  for  the  best,  my  love  !  "  said  my  mis- 
tress. "  Come,  Curtis,  don't  stand  there  like  the  fig- 
ure of  woe  in  the  pageant,  but  bestir  yourself  to 
get  things  together  for  our  march.  We  are  all  in  God's 
hands,  and  let  Him  do  what  He  will  it  will  be  best." 

Mr.  Batie  forgot  himself  for  once.  He  caught  his 
wife  in  his  arms,  kissing  her,  weeping  over  her,  and 
calling  her  his  suffering  angel,  his  poor  hunted  dar- 
ling. He  was  all  himself  in  a  moment,  and  looked  a 
little  ashamed,  but  I  liked  him  all  the  better. 

Well,  Mistress  Curtis  set  herself  to  pack  up  what 
was  most  needed,  and  I  to  getting  supper,  for  as  I  said 
our  only  maid  was  away  at  some  family  festival.  I  took 
occasion  to  be  seen  going  in  and  out,  about  the  supper. 
I  even  made  an  errand  to  a  neighboring  shop  where 
we  often  bought  provisions,  and  finding  some  good 
butter,  I  bought  enough  to  last  a  week.  John  Sy- 
mond  was  to  stay  behind  till  early  morning  and  then 
join  us.  All  the  time  I  was  busy  I  kept  saying 
to  myself.  "Wesel,  Wesel,  what  do  I  know  about 
Wesel?"  I  don't  think  my  head  had  ever  been  quite 
right  since  my  great  shock,  and  my  memory  playe^i 
me  sad  tricks. 

We  sat  down  to  supper  for  the  last  time  in  our  snug 
little  house.  Every  body  there  closes  shutters  at 


356  Loveda^fs  History. 

dusk,  which  was  lucky  for  us.  Mistress  Curtis's  eyes 
were  red  with  weeping,  but  my  mistress  was  calm 
and  cheerful  as  a  summer  morning  ;  and  she  took 
her  supper  with  a  good  appetite.  Mr.  Bade  looked 
a  man  who  was  holding  himself  with  all  his  force,  and 
as  for  me,  I  can  only  say  that  all  my  strength  was  bent 
to  the  determination  of  serving  my  mistress  and  saving 
her  if  possible.  We  had  prayers  after  supper,  and  in  all 
my  life  I  never  heard  any  one  pray  like  Mr.  Batie. 
He  put  new  life  and  courage  into  us  all,  and  into  him- 
self, too,  for  when  he  rose  his  face  had  lost  its  set,  hard 
look,  and  was  calm  and  pleasant  as  ever. 

When  the  little  Dutch  time-piece  in  the  corner 
struck  eight  we  prepared  to  be  gone.  The  night  was 
as  black  as  any  night  can  be  when  there  is  snow  on 
the  ground,  which  was  all  the  better  for  us,  of  course. 
We  went  down  the  little  garden  and  out  at  the  back 
gate.  The  keeper  of  the  town-gate  let  us  pass 
without  a  question,  wishing  us  God  speed,  and  then 
began  our  trial. 

Oh,  what  a  miserable  walk  that  was.  The  ground 
was  only  half-frozen,  and  the  road  was  rough  and 
miry,  for  we  dared  not  take  the  well-traveled  high- 
way. A  half-melted  snow  was  falling,  which  blew  in 
our  faces,  and  clung  to  our  garments.  Mr.  Batie 
went  first,  with  his  wife  leaning  on  him,  and  Mistress 
Curtis  and  I  followed,  carrying  each  a  bundle,  and 
supporting  each  other  as  best  we  could.  The  dear 
woman  was  growing  old  and  not  so  strong  as  she  had 
been. 

"To  think  of  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  in  such  a 
plight,"  she  sighed.  "  Wandering  in  the  snow  like  a 
gipsy  wife.  What  would  the  Duke  say  to  see  her 


The   Wanderers.  357 

creeping  along  in  this  dark  night  with  no  one  to  lean 
on  but  Mr.  Batie  ?  " 

I  could  hardly  help  laughing. 

"  And  this  lonely  road,  too  ! "  she  continued. 
"  Heaven  send,  we  meet  no  foot- pads  !  " 

"  Heaven  send,  we  meet  nothing  worse,"  I  thought, 
for  our  road  skirted  a  bit  of  the  prince-bishop's  forest, 
and  I  knew  the  wolves  were  very  bold  at  times.  I 
listened  with  all  my  ears,  and  almost  thought  I  heard 
their  long-drawn  howls  in  the  depths  of  the  wood,  but 
I  believe,  after  all,  it  was  only  the  wind  among  the 
trees.  My  mistress  never  made  a  complaint,  and 
looked  back  from  time  to  time  to  say  a  word  of  en- 
couragement. It  was  but  four  miles,  but  it  seemed 
like  a  dozen  leagues.  We  met  not  a  single  soul  on 
the  road,  and  when  we  reached  the  city  gate,  the 
lights  were  all  out  in  the  town,  thougn  it  was  not 
midnight.  Mr.  Batie  knocked  at  a  little  side  gate, 
and  said  a  few  words  in  Latin.  The  wicket  was 
opened,  and  we  found  ourselves  within  the  friendly 
walls  of  the  free  Hanse  town.  A  few  steps  more 
brought  us  to  a  great  old  church  with  a  deep  porch, 
wherein  were  wide  benches.  The  sky  had  now  cleared, 
and  the  waning  moon  showed  us  every  thing  clearly. 
My  mistress  had  not  said  a  word  for  half  an  hour, 
but  now  she  spoke. 

"  Let  us  stop  here,  my  dearest  love  ;  I  fear  I  can 
not  walk  a  step  further." 

There  was  mute  suffering  in  her  voice,  and  I  guessed 
in  a  minute  what  was  coming,  but  I  don't  believe  it 
ever  came  into  Mr.  Batie's  head.  Men  are  so  stupid, 
with  all  their  learning. 

"  It  is  so  cold  ! "  said  he,  hesitating.  "  Had  you 
not  better " 


358  Loveday^s  History. 

"  No,  no,  let  her  rest  ! "  said  I,  and  seeing  he  did 
not  yet  understand,  I  whispered  something  in  his  ear, 
and  added  :  "  Hasten  and  find  us  shelter  as  quickly  as 
you  can." 

It  was  not  so  easily  done.  All  the  houses  were 
closed,  even  the  inns,  and  he  could  make  nobody  hear. 
Indeed,  a  German  landlord,  once  he  hath  closed  his 
house  for  the  night,  will  not  open  to  a  prince  of  the 
blood.  He  hurried  from  street  to  street,  growing 
fairly  distracted  with  anxiety.  At  last  he  came  across 
a  knot  of  students,  who  were  disputing  violently  in 
Latin.  He  appealed  to  them  at  once. 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven  and  your  own  mothers, 
gentlemen,  tell  me  where  I  can  find  help  for  a  lady  in 
extremity  ! " 

They  looked  at  each  other,  and  were  inclined  to 
make  a  joke  of  the  matter  at  first,  but  seeing  his  dis- 
tress to  be  real,  the  kind-hearted  lads  consulted  to- 
gether. 

"  There  is  a  pastor  near  by  who  hath  been  in  En- 
gland I  know,"  said  one  ;  "  I  will  guide  you  to  his 
house,  sir,  and  no  doubt  you  will  find  the  help  you 
need  for  your  poor  lady." 

Meantime,  Mistress  Curtis  and  I  had  pulled  off  our 
cloaks  and  made  the  best  couch  we  could  for  our 
suffering  lady,  who,  while  her  voice  was  sharpened  by 
the  mortal  anguish  of  a  woman's  supreme  trial,  still 
spoke  words  of  cheer  and  comfort ;  and  there,  on  that 
dark  November  night,  in  the  cold  church  porch,  was 
born  he  who  is  now  one  of  the  queen's  bravest  and 
best  soldiers  and  servants,  Peregrine,  Lord  Willowby. 

All  was  over,  and  the  babe  wrapped  in  my  flannel 
petticoat,  roaring  for  dear  life,  when  Mr.  Batie  came 


The   Wanderers.  359 

back  with  a  man  in  a  pastor's  dress,  and  two  others, 
bearing  a  litter  of  some  sort.  As  the  light  he  held 
flashed  on  the  pastor's  face,  I  knew  I  had  seen  him 
before,  but  where  I  could  not  tell.  In  a  little  time 
my  mistress  was  put  to  bed  in  a  comfortable,  clean 
room.  A  kind,  pleasant,  and  motherly  woman  was 
bustling  about,  providing  us  with  dry  clothes  and  hot 
soup  ;  and  her  pretty  married  daughter  was  dressing 
the  babe  in  some  of  her  own  child's  clothes,  for  the 
bundle  of  baby  linen  Mistress  Curtis  brought,  had 
been  somehow  lost  on  the  way. 

"  You  take  too  much  trouble  for  us,  dear  madam," 
said  I,  as  the  good,  kind  woman  brought  in  some  new 
delicacy  to  tempt  us. 

"  Nay,  my  dear,  that  I  can  never  do,"  said  she, 
showing  her  beautiful  teeth  in  a  smile.  "  My  husband 
was  once  saved  from  death  by  starvation  in  the  streets 
of  London,  by  some  kind  English  ladies.  Oh,  I  would 
do  any  thing  for  the  English  !  " 

"  Now  I  know,"  I  exclaimed ;  "  your  husband  is  that 
same  Walloon  pastor  whom  my  mistress  saved  from 
the  hands  of  the  boatmen  on  the  river.  I  thought  I 
had  seen  him  before." 

If  the  good  people  had  been  hospitable  before, 
judge  what  they  were  now.  The  best  of  every  thing 
was  not  good  enough  for  us.  The  pastor  recognized 
me  at  once,  and  told  his  family  how  I  had  been  the 
first  to  understand  him,  and  taken  his  part,  and  how 
my  mistress  had  helped  him,  not  only  with  food  and 
money,  but  with  kind  words  and  true  sympathy.  At 
last,  Mr.  Batie  begged  that  there  might  be  no  more 
talking,  and  we  finally  settled  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   LAST. 

|Y  mistress  was  certainly  a  wonderful  woman. 
After  all  she  had  gone  through,  she  awoke 
as  fresh  as  a  daisy,  and  I  believe  would  have 
even  got  up  if  Mistress  Curtis  would  have  allowed 
such  a  thing.  I  do  think  the  dear  old  woman  was 
almost  vexed  with  her  for  being  so  well,  after  all  she 
had  gone  through.  As  for  the  babe,  he  was  a 
famous  fellow,  as  well  as  a  little  pig,  and  squalled  so 
lustily  when  he  was  christened,  that  our  hostess  proph- 
esied great  things  for  his  future.  'Tis  accounted 
almost  a  fatal  sign  there  if  a  babe,  and  specially  a 
boy,  does  not  cry  at  his  baptism.  My  lady  called  him 
Peregrine  in  remembrance  of  our  midnight  wander- 
ings, and  I  was  his  godmother — a  great  honor  for 
me.  I  can  not,  however,  claim  much  of  the  credit  of 
his  education.  "  Are  there  any  English  here  now  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Batie,  as  we  sat  at  dinner  next  day.  He 
would  have  us  all  sit  down  together,  saying  that  it 
was  no  time  for  worldly  forms,  as  indeed  it  was  not. 
"We  heard  the  English  congregation  was  wholly 
broken  up." 

"  It  hath  been  so  ! "  answered  Monsieur  Claude  ; 
"  but  the  pastor  resides  here  still.  His  name  is  Win- 
ter !  " 


The  Last.  361 

"  Winter  !  "  I  exclaimed  —  "  not  Arthur  Winter 
from  Middleburg." 

"  The  same,  madam  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Batie. 

"  Know  him  !  "  said  I.  "  He  married  my  own 
cousin,  and  his  daughter  is  our  dear  adopted  child. 
How  stupid  of  me  not  to  remember  that  it  was  to 
Wesel  they  came.  It  was  Arthur  Winter  that  mar- 
ried me."  And  I  had  much  ado  not  to  burst  out 
weeping.  Mr.  Batie  poured  me  out  a  glass  of  wine, 
which  I  drank,  and  restrained  myself  with  a  great 
effort.  Madam  Claude  stepped  out  of  the  room 
and  presently  returned  with  a  smelling  bottle  which 
she  had  been  some  time  in  finding.  I  suppose  it  may 
seem  strange  to  some,  but  I  dreaded  to  see  Arthur 
and  Katherine.  It  seemed  like  a  tearing  open  of  the 
unhealed  wound,  and  I  felt  in  the  perverseness  of 
grief,  as  if  I  could  bear  any  thing  better  than  their 
sympathy.  There  was  no  use  in  giving  way  to  such 
feelings,  however,  and  I  was  nerving  myself  to  ask 
Madam  Claude  for  a  guide  to  their  house,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  I  found  myself  in  Katherine's 
arms — the  very  same  Katherine  I  had  left  in  Mid- 
dleburg so  many  years  before — a  little  older,  but 
serene  and  fair  as  ever.  Naturally  her  first  ques- 
tion was  for  her  child. 

"  Katherine  is  well  and  in  good  hands  ! "  said  I, 
and  I  told  her  how  I  had  left  her.  "She  will  be 
safe  there  if  any  where  !  My  lord  is  king  on  his 
own  domain,  and  any  one  coining  to  molest  him  would 
go  to  feed  the  crabs  and  codlings  within  two  hours 
afterward." 

My  lady  would  have  me  go  home  to  spend  the  day 


362  Loveday's  History. 

with  my  cousin,  and  as  she  really  did  not  need  me,  I 
was  glad  to  do  so,  finding  after  the  first  was  over, 
great  comfort  in  her  gentle  familiar  English  ways. 
She  told  me  my  uncle  was  well,  as  also  our  other 
friends  in  Rotterdam  and  Amsterdam,  and  that  the 
prospects  of  the  Reformed  religion  grew  more  and 
more  gloomy.  New  restraints  and  vexations  were 
laid  upon  the  Protestants  every  day,  and  it  was  be- 
lieved they  would  finally  be  wholly  forbidden  the 
exercise  of  their  religion.  Garrett  had  given  up  busi- 
ness, and  they  talked  of  removing  to  Leyden,  but 
nothing  was  settled  when  Katherine  last  heard. 

"  And  what  will  you  do  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at 
me  with  her  sweet  eyes  full  of  pity  and  kindness. 

"  Whatever  my  hand  shall  find  !  "  I  answered.  "  I 
have  no  earthly  duty  now  but  to  my  dear  mistress, 
and  whither  she  goes  I  will  go,  were  it  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth."  And,  indeed,  I  did  travel  many  a 
rough  and  weary  mile  with  her  ere  we  saw  England 
again. 

My  mistress  was  about  again,  and  we  were  once 
more  established  in  a  neat  little  house  which  Mr. 
Batie  had  hired.  The  Christmas  holidays  were 
close  at  hand,  and  I  dreaded  them  so  much,  I  would 
have  liked  to  sleep  over  them.  Indeed,  holidays  be- 
come sad  things  as  one  grows  older.  In  case  of 
those  which  the  church  has  always  held  sacred, 
one  can,  indeed,  find  comfort  in  looking  at  the  great 
truths  they  commemorate.  Mr.  Batie  had  gently 
pointed  this  out  to  me,  and  had  bidden  me  take 
refuge  from  my  sad  thoughts  in  meditations  on  the 
wonderful  mystery  of  God  manifest  in  the  Babe  at 
Bethlehem.  I  tried  to  do  so,  and  did  in  some  sort 


The  Last.  363 

succeed,  though  the  sad  remembrance  of  our  last 
happy  Christmas  at  Coombe  Ashton  would  at  times 
sweep  all  before  it  in  a  flood  of  tears.  I  was  deter- 
mined, however,  that  I  would  not  .be  a  kill-joy,  and 
I  threw  myself  with  zeal  into  all  the  preparations  in 
which  these  good  folks  delight.  I  was  helping  my 
lady  to  dress  some  fine  dolls  like  English  ladies  for 
the  granddaughters  of  our  first  host,  Monsieur 
Claude,  w.hen  there  was  a  knock  at  the  street  door, 
and  presently  Mrs.  Curtis  beckoned  my  lady  out  of 
the  room.  I  was  surprised,  for  Mistress  Curtis  would 
have  stood  on  ceremony  in  the  dungeon  of  the  In- 
quisition. Presently  my  lady  came  back  to  her  own 
chamber  where  we  were  sitting. 

"  Katherine  is  below,  sweet  !  "  said  she.  I  rose  to 
go,  but  she  detained  me. 

"  She  hath  brought  a  guest  with  her — an  English- 
man who  has  come  over  with  great  news." 

Somehow — I  know  not  how — I  saw  it  all  in  an  in- 
stant. I  burst  from  her  detaining  grasp,  flew  down 
the  stairs,  and  the  next  minute  was  in  my  husband's 
arms. 

Yes,  it  was  Walter  himself- -thin,  gray-headed, 
worn,  but  yet  mine  own  true  love.  I  would  have 
known  him  any  where  changed  as  he  was.  I  asked 
no  questions.  I  was  not  even  surprised  to  see  him. 
There  he  was  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 

When  we  had  come  to  ourselves  a  little,  he  told  us 
his  story.  He  had  been  left  for  dead  in  the  crisis  of 
the  fever,  and  the  turnkey's  wife  really  believed  she 
was  telling  the  truth.  When  she  returned  to  the 
prison,  however,  and  sought  the  body  to  do  for  it 
some  last  decent  offices,  she  found  that  Walter  still 


364  Loveday^s  History. 

lived,  though  the  life  was  hardly  perceptible.  She 
had  never  forgotten  what  I  had  done  for  their  child, 
and  taking  counsel  with  my  husband,  they  procured 
a  rough  coffin,  and  removing  Walter  in  it  as  if  for 
burial,  they  took  him  to  a  secret  nook,  where  the  wo- 
man nursed  him,  pretending  he  was  a  brother  of  her 
own,  who  had  taken  the  fever  while  waiting  on  the 
prisoners. 

Walter  lay  long  in  extreme  weakness,  and  longer 
still  before  his  guardians  judged  it  safe  for  him  to  try 
to  escape.  At  last,  however,  he  adventured  it,  and 
got  away  in  a  French  vessel,  whose  master  was  a 
Huguenot.  He  had  learned  of  our  whereabouts  by 
means  of  that  secret  intelligence,  which,  as  I  have 
said,  exists  among  the  reformed  all  over  Europe,  and 
after  many  wanderings  and  trials,  he  had  made  his 
way  to  Wesel. 

And  now  it  is  time  for  me  to  bring  this  story  to  a 
close.  We  lived  in  Wesel  some  two  years.  Then, 
Mr.  Batie,  unwisely  as  we  thought,  made  another 
move  to  the  dominions  of  the  Palsgrave.  However, 
we  went  with  them,  for  Mistress  Curtis  had  died  in  the 
meantime,  and  my  mistress  depended  much  upon  me. 
Here  we  lived  a  while  longer,  poor  enough,  for  all  the 
money  and  jewels  we  had  brought  from  home  were 
exhausted.  Mr.  Batie,  with  all  his  learning,  could 
find  little  to  do,  and,  indeed,  we  were  hungry  more 
than  once.  In  this  strait  it  was  my  privilege  to  help 
the  lady  who  had  done  so  much  for  me.  I  had  al- 
ways kept  up  my  music,  and  I  was  fortunate  in  ob- 
taining pupils  on  the  lute  and  in  singing,  enough  at 
least  to  find  us  bread,  and  buy  clothes  for  my  god- 
son. At  the  end  of  another  year,  a  great  piece  of 


The  Last.  365 

good  fortune  befell  us.  Mr.  Batie  found  an  old 
schoolmate  in  a  Polish  nobleman  who  was  high  in 
the  favor  of  Julius,  King  of  Poland.  He  interested 
the  king  in  his  friend's  behalf,  and  by  and  by  we  heard 
that  the  king  had  assigned  Mr.  Batie  quite  a  princely 
domain.  We  had  a  hard  journey  thither,  and  a  hard- 
er time  still,  or  so  I  thought,  in  cleaning  the  old  rook- 
ery of  a  castle,  and  making  it  decent  for  Christians  to 
live  in.  I  would  like  to  tell  you  of  our  life  in  that 
far-away  land,  but  this  book  of  mine  hath  run  too  long 
already.  Be  it  enough  to  say,  that  we  lived  in  great 
peace  and  comfort  till  the  accession  of  our  present 
gracious  queen  brought  us  back  to  England  once 
more. 

When  I  had  seen  my  dear  lady  settled  in  her  own 
house,  we  went  down  to  Coombe-Ashton,  taking  with 
us  one  I  never  thought  to  see  again — Father  Austin, 
whom  we  found  absolutely  starving  in  the  streets  of 
London.  The  dear  old  man  hath  lived  with  us  ever 
since.  He  will  not  say  out  and  out  that  he  hath 
abandoned  his  old  religion,  but  he  reads  all  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  goes  to  hear  my  husband  preach.  Mr. 
Batie  exerted  himself  to  procure  the  arrears  of  Father 
Austin's  small  pension,  which  is  now  paid  regularly. 
He  is  as  happy  as  possible,  his  only  trouble  arising 
from  the  performances  of  the  Jesuits,  as  the  new  or- 
der is  called. 

Katherine  and  her  husband  still  live  at  Wesel. 
Her  oldest  girl — my  adopted  daughter — is  well  mar- 
ried, and  lives  near  us,  and  I  have  two  boys  and  a  girl 
of  mine  own.  My  uncle  died  full  of  years,  just  in 
time  to  escape  the  storm  of  persecution  and  war 
which  Philip  of  Spain  hath  let  loose  on  the  Nether- 


366  Lov  eddy's  History. 

lands.      We   have  heard  nothing  of  Avice  and  her 
husband  for  years. 

And  now  this  hand  of  mine,  feeble  and  wrinkled, 
lays  down  the  pen.  I  have  seen  many  changes  in  my 
time,  and  passed  through  many  sorrows.  It  is  some 
times  hard  for  me  to  feel  that  this  is  the  same- 
England,  where,  when  I  was  young,  a  man  who  read 
the  Bible  in  his  family,  took  his  life  in  his  hand. 
Truly  the  Lord  hath  been  bountiful  to  us  beyond  all 
our  deserts.  May  we  never  be  so  unmindful  of  His 
favor  as  to  draw  down  His  judgments  once  more 
upon  us. 


THE    END    OF   LOVEDAY's    HISTORY. 


